


I'm Bringing the Party to You

by kiwigirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 26,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwigirl/pseuds/kiwigirl
Summary: A series of ficlets originally written and posted forMarvelous Birthdays, now collected in one place and to be updated in the future.





	1. Index

Chapter 2: Beautiful - _WinterShock for Wynni_

Chapter 3: Bird types -  _Sam Wilson/Kate Bishop for crystalive_

Chapter 4: SOS -  _TaserHawk for misslexi54_

Chapter 5: Go cups -  _TaserHulk for redheadbecool_

Chapter 6: Inappropriate naps -  _TaserHawk for insanepinky_

Chapter 7: Cupcake -  _TaserTooth for hkthauer_

Chapter 8: Auspicious -  _Daisy/Logan for millaraysuyai_

Chapter 9: Pretty Kitty -  _ShieldShock for idontgettechnology_

Chapter 10: Good enough -  _FalconShock for whedonista93_

Chapter 11: Darcy's (ginger) kisses -  _TaserStrike for kitrazzle_

Chapter 12: Quickdreams -  _QuickTaser for cassiopeiacaelis_

Chapter 13: Cheesecake -  _Tasertooth for multi-fandom-girl2_

Chapter 14: that's how it works -  _WinterShock for tolovewhatismortal_

Chapter 15: How's unemployment? -  _TaserStrike for ibelieveinturtles_

Chapter 16: Pockets -  _Wintershock for queenoffrizz_

Chapter 17: I brought me cookies  _- Sam/Maria _for awriter314__

Chapter 18: I'm a Big Fan _- Daredevil/Black Widow _for mattmurdocksgirl__

Chapter 19: Is that normal? _\- Loki/Wanda _for lucdarling__

Chapter 20: You've got a Deal -  _WinterShock for piccalily0510_

Chapter 21: A Match Made in Asgard - _Steve/Sif for willowodair_

Chapter 22: Happy Ending -  _Bucky/Valkyrie for theonewithwaytoomanyfandoms_


	2. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 31 - "Were you dreaming about me?" Wintershock for mommawynni

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/161272151665/happy-birthday-mommawynni) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10795032/chapters/24641328)

Early afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in gold. Ignoring the view, Bucky opened the fridge and studied the contents.

“You need a haircut.”

He froze at the quiet admonition, one hand on Sam’s favourite soda. Had he imagined that? When it was not followed by an explosion of glitter or a bot wielding scissors, he relaxed. Purloined soda in hand, he turned around. The room looked empty, as it often was at this time of day.

About to write the entire thing off as a JARVIS-delivered prank, he heard something shift in the sitting area.

Rounding the couches, he stopped short at the brunette curled up on the plushest armchair, her breathing slow and even. A slight smile played about her lips but she seemed quite unaware of his presence. As he watched, she shifted again and turned, burying her face in a cushion with a happy sigh.

He knew who she was, of course. They’d met several times in passing, enough to pique his interest, not enough that he felt confident in asking her out. She was probably already dating one of Stark’s scientists. Dame like that wouldn’t stay single for long.

“Darcy?”

At his voice, she mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch. Remembering what she said about haircuts, he shook his head fondly and backed away, smacking into the coffee table and sitting down heavily. The soda bottle hit the table with a loud clunk and he winced.

“Let’s make this beautiful!” Darcy yelled, sitting bolt upright. She looked around, rubbed her eyes, and settled down again, hugging the cushion. Several careful breaths later, her eyes flew open again, focussed on Bucky. “You’re real,” she said flatly. “Are you watching me sleep?”

“I came in here for a drink,” Bucky answered, holding it up sheepishly. “Why are you sleeping in the common lounge?”

Darcy groaned and she buried her face in the cushion. “So the Asgardian delegation arrived three days ago, right? Let’s just say that right now, the apartment I share with Jane is a no-go zone at night. Or all the time, really. I would be happy she’s out of the lab if they weren’t so loud!”

Bucky’s eyes widened in comprehension. “All the time? Really?”

She nodded miserably. “Yep.”

“I’ll leave you to your nap, then. Only… did you know you talk in your sleep?”

He was not prepared for Darcy’s reaction. Her eyes widened and a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. “Wh-what did I say?”

“Only something about a haircut.”

Darcy relaxed, settling back into the armchair. “Oh, that’s okay, then.”

Confused, Bucky saw her eyes flicker to where his hair brushed his shoulders. Realisation dawned. “Darcy… were you dreaming about me?”

The rising blush was answer enough. “In defence of my subconscious, you are totally dreamy.”

He thought about it, decided to take it as a compliment. “So what did dream-me do, besides needing a haircut?”

Biting her lip, Darcy squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “You… might have kissed me? Then you turned into the Mad Hatter and chased the Evil Queen down a rabbit hole. It was a really weird dream." Though her tone was nonchalant, her gaze lingered on his lips in a way that had him thinking it wasn't the weirdness first and foremost on her mind. She glanced at him through lowered lashes, a clear invitation.

His brain short-circuited for long enough that her smile faltered for a moment. When he recovered, he let his lips lift into a smirk, set the soda bottle aside. "Well then, how about we see about making some of that dream come true?”


	3. Bird types

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 7 - either, “This is mine. Are we clear?” or “You are so mean… and I’m okay with that.” Sam Wilson/Kate Bishop for crystalive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/161534491690/happy-birthday-crystalive) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11071242/chapters/24816654)

Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly as he made his way down the corridor. To all outside appearances, he was on his daily trip to the firing range. No one else needed to know about what else was in his pockets. Not until it was too late.

Team name notwithstanding, Sam Wilson would not normally be described as a vengeful man. He was sure, however, that today would go down as a day of reckoning. Today, the scales would be balanced, a wrong would be righted. Dammit, Barton had bedazzled his wings and immediately moved out of the Tower, giving Sam no chance for appropriate retribution!

Sure, Sam can't blame him for wanting to do his thing, but pranking was a lot easier with JARVIS on hand to help disengage locks. Not all of them were proficient at sneaking around or breaking and entering; Sam had no desire to get shot by some trigger-happy Brooklynite. Even if they didn't kill him, Barton would die laughing. No, better to strike today.

Nat had let slip there was some problem with Barton's apartment building and he'd moved back in for a short while. With a dog, Sam thought, but he'd switched from listening to planning as Nat filled the team in.

Joyful thoughts of settling the score carried him all the way to the weapons locker at the range. Bypassing his favourite pistols, he zeroed in on the array of bows and arrows that hadn't been there yesterday. There were quite a few there, but he put that down to Barton's hoarding tendencies and extreme protectiveness of his gear. He wouldn't want to leave them in an empty apartment.

Under the pretence of inspecting them, Sam looked around for watchers. Satisfied the range was empty, he eased the glitter glue out of his pocket and got to work.

He had barely begun when there was a shriek from the entrance. A very _feminine_  shriek. He barely had time to register her presence before a pretty brunette girl - woman, really - was wrenching the bow out of his hands.

“What are you  _doing_?”

Sam gestured weakly, the action drawing her attention to the tube of glitter glue he held. “Uh… I was… I heard Barton was back…”

She scowled at him, blue eyes flashing. “Oh, and Clint holds the monopoly on bows, does he?”

Tongue-tied in the face of her anger, Sam scrambled for a reply. “I- Obviously not. Who are you, again?”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm the new Hawkeye. My name is Kate Bishop and this-” she shook the bow she held- “is mine. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma'am!” He even managed to pull off a salute, causing the edge of her mouth to tick upwards into a smile.

“What were you even doing?” she asked, inspecting her bow. Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief that he hasn't gotten to ‘decorating’ it yet.

He held the tube out. “See, I heard Barton had moved back in for a while and wanted to thank him for dressing my gear up when he was last here.”

Kate laughed, fury evaporating into amusement. “Oh, that's classic! I wonder how long it'll take him to notice. Need any help?”

Sam surveyed the work ahead of him and nodded. “Sure. I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Wilson.”

“The Falcon, right? Don't look so surprised; us bird-types have to stick together.”

“See that's what I thought!” Sam complained. “But Barton prefers to go 'Lone Ranger' most of the time.”

“Tell me about it.” Kate sighed dramatically. “Just don't call me Tonto.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Sam assured her, pulling out another two tubes of glue and offering them to her. “You want pink or purple?”

She took the purple one with a grin. “Sam, I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership.”

She was less amused to find some of her arrows already covered in glitter but forgave Sam when he offered to buy her dinner in recompense.


	4. SOS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 17 - Clint/any female, something {funny} maybe with {I once texted my on duty police officer (or SHIELD) best friend during a bad date to have him pretend to arrest me to get out of the date.} for misslexi54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/161919940555/happy-birthday-misslexi54) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11071242/chapters/25075779)

“I’m so glad you don’t wear much makeup. There’s nothing more unattractive than a girl who plasters her face with makeup because she thinks it makes her more attractive. Some may like it, personally, I prefer girls who rock the natural look.”

Darcy nodded weakly, the smile feeling more and more forced the longer he talked. She had no idea how Nat had found this guy or why she’d thought him an appropriate date for Darcy. He was handsome, sure, but the Tower was full of handsome men, most of whom talked to her and not to her chest. If only she hadn't made the mistake of complaining about her recent lack of dates…

Stealthily, she reached into the handbag hanging off the back of her chair and groped around for her phone. Feeling like she was back in middle school passing notes, she left it on her lap and typed out an SOS to Natasha. Within seconds, her phone buzzed with a reply.

_Help is on the way._

She felt a vast weight lift off her shoulders and refocused on her date.

“And I told her, are you joking? There’s already a law against the gender pay gap. If you aren’t strong enough to do the heavy lifting and a man has to do that for you, of course he should be paid more. It’s about being fair. I can’t understand why people don’t get that.”

Darcy gritted her teeth and waited for rescue.

When she spotted Clint making his way through the restaurant, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cheer or slink further into her seat. Of all the people for Nat to send, why  _him_? They’d spent months trading barbs over her baking; he’d never let her forget this.

Also, why was he in some sort of uniform?

Her date finally noticed her distraction. “Darby? Is everything okay?”

She gave him the most genuine smile of the evening, choosing to ignore his mistake in the face of rescue. “Everything’s great!”

The smile lasted all the way until she was hauled out of her seat and bent over the table, her hands cuffed behind her back.

“Darcy Lewis, you are under arrest-”

“I  _what_?”

“-you are under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon causing grievous bodily harm.”

“What’s going on, Darby?”

She had no idea, but if it got her out of this date, she didn’t care. Clint grinned as he pulled her to her feet, addressed her date. “Been chasing this one for months.”

“Wh- what? What’d she do?”

“Took a knife to her date because he was boring, apparently.”

“She  _killed_  him?”

“No, but what she did was nearly as bad. Waited until he took her home and lopped off - well, she cut off -” Clint paused, as if hesitant to continue. “- a rather important part of his anatomy, if you get what I mean. It wasn't the first time, either. She's done it to a few men. We call her the Sausage Slicer.”

Looking rather green, her date nodded. Tired of trying not to grin at the sight of him finally silent, Darcy gave in. “He deserved it,” she announced. “They all did. Also, I prefer to be called the Cock Chopper.”

“Tell that to the DA,” Clint retorted as he hustled her away, past the other diners all staring shamelessly at this unexpected dinner entertainment. The maitre d’ held the door open as they exited to the street, his face pinched and disapproving.

They made it two blocks away outside before cracking.

“Did you see his face?” Darcy howled with laughter. “He thought he was going to be next!”

“Going by the look on your face when I came in, I wasn't far off, was I?”

Darcy made a face. “Not really, no.” She looked back at the restaurant. “I’m never going to be able to eat there again, am I?”

Clint slung an arm around her shoulders. “I think your chances are somewhere between a snowball’s chance and when pigs fly.”

“I didn’t even get to eat my entree,” she complained. “I’m  _starving_.”

“Seriously, Darce, if you wanted a date you should've just asked me instead of some loser.”

“Nat was the one who set it up!” Darcy protested.

Clint scowled. “Interfering _svakha_. We’ll grab Chinese takeout on the way home, how about that? We can watch the Mummy and throw peanuts at the screen.”

Mollified somewhat, Darcy nodded. “Okay. Only-”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get these handcuffs off me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _svakha_  - matchmaker


	5. Go cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 23 - Darcy/Bruce "I like you fine when you're angry" for redheadbecool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/162152399730/happy-birthday-redheadbecool) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11071242/chapters/25225683)

“Cappuccino for Bruce!"

Bruce looked up from his workstation, confusion in his eyes. "You got me coffee?"

Darcy nodded, pushing the takeaway cup in his direction. "Jane and Tony send me on coffee runs all the time; I figured I'd get one for you too."

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even fluffier than before. "I, uh, don't drink coffee. Sorry."

"Whoa, what?" Darcy’s jaw dropped. "You have multiple degrees. When you heard I went to Culver we bonded over love of pulling all-nighters at Espressoholic. How do you not drink coffee?"

If anything, Bruce looked even more embarrassed. "I used to drink it. Wish I still could, but I don't think a stimulant like caffeine is the best thing for the other guy. Thanks anyway."

Darcy shrugged. "Okay, I'll get you decaf next time. No biggie.”

She was gone before he could protest further, ‘his’ cappuccino in hand.

* * *

He took a long swallow, savouring the flavour as the cup warmed his hand. Suddenly he was back at Culver, young and earnest and certain his research could save the world. When he got angry (which wasn't often) he broke pens, not neighbourhoods. People.

After a moment, he lowered the cup to see Darcy watching him intently. “Well?” she demanded.

“It's good,” he admitted, and the smile that blossomed across her face made his heart do an odd double thump he couldn't blame on the coffee. He'd always had a thing for smart brunettes. Unfortunately, the reason things hadn't worked out with Betty was exactly why he should cut this thing with Darcy before it went any further.

Instead, he took another drink of coffee.

* * *

“It's so nice to buy coffee for someone who doesn't leave a mountain of half-enough mugs for me to clean up,” Darcy confided over the rim of her own caramel macchiato. “Although…” She surveyed the cup he held. “All these takeaway cups can't be good for the environment. We need to get you a go cup. Or seven. You know, so you only need to do the dishes once a week.”

Bruce blinked at her enthusiasm. “Seven seems excessive. I'm sure one would be fine.”

“Okie doodles,” Darcy said. “What colour do you want and how big? No, wait, you should pick it yourself, coffee cups are very personal. How about we go and get it tomorrow, and you can try it out right there?”

“No, I trust your judgement,” he told her, feeling like he was missing something.

Darcy set down her cup and looked him in the eye. “Let me rephrase: would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?”

Unsure how to phrase his reply, he sat there long enough that her smile dimmed. “Okay, that's a no, I guess. I kinda thought… ”

“Wait, Darcy…” he scrambled for words as she rose to leave. “It's not safe. I'm not safe.”

She looked unconvinced, “Is this about the other guy? Because I'm pretty sure you've got him under control.”

“That's here. Out there, anything could happen. There are a million things that could go wrong. You might shrug them off but I'm not so good at that these days.”

“Seriously?” She gave him an incredulous look. “Dude, you're like the chillest guy I know.”

He shook his head helplessly. “You wouldn't like me when I get angry. People get hurt. I don't want you to be one of them”

“And that's it?”

At his nod, Darcy sighed, and he felt like the biggest kind of bastard as she took another sip of coffee to hide a wobbling lip. “Okay,” she said, giving him a tremulous smile. “I better go check on Jane.”

 _It's for the best_ , he reminded himself as she left. He gulped down the bitter dregs of his now-cold coffee and dumped the empty cup in the trash.

* * *

Darcy inspected the row of go cups and frowned. She might be hurt and mad, but she wasn't buying any more coffee in disposable cups. Unfortunately, that talk with Bruce hadn't included what type of go cup he actually wanted. Well, there was an easy way to solve that. She pulled out her cellphone and asked JARVIS to put her through to Bruce’s lab.

“Darcy?”

“Hey Bruce!” she forced a smile into her voice. “What colour cup did you want, again?”

“I-”

The rest of his answer was swallowed up by an explosion from outside that blew the windows in and sent Darcy crashing into the display. Groaning, she rolled to her knees and peered outside. Chaos reigned as a small army of robots filled the street. A squad peeled off to march into the bank next door as the others spread out, dragging pedestrians to the middle of the street.

Darcy stifled a shriek as a metal hand clamped down on her shoulder, hauling her through the shattered window and dumping her beside a shellshocked businesswoman. She eyed the robots surrounding them, wondering if her beloved taser could take enough out to run… where?

A roar shook the streets and Darcy had enough time to sigh in relief before one robot was scooped up by a familiar green hand and used to scatter the others like bowling pins. The whine of Iron Man’s repulsors sounded above her head and a robot exploded in a shower of sparks. Shielding her face from the debris, she huddled against the dubious shelter of an abandoned car as the people around her scattered.

Her view of the chaos was suddenly blocked and she blinked up at the Hulk. “Um. Hi?”

“Darcy hurt?” he rumbled, and she shook her head.

“I’m fine, big guy. I think they were after the bank.”

She made a shooing gesture with her hands. He hesitated, then scooped her up, depositing her in a nearby store before bounding off to rejoin the fight. Having nothing better to do, she sat back and waited for the sounds of battle to die down.

* * *

He found her in the ruins of a cafe, dirty but looking otherwise unharmed. Her face brightened as he stepped inside and she held something out to him.

“I found you a go cup,” she announced. “The owner said I could have it at a discount.”

The man hiding behind the counter gave him a shaky smile but he only had eyes for the woman in front of him. “You’re still getting me one of those? You’ve just seen what I can do.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You think I’m turning down a cheap go cup?” Standing, she tucked her arm into his and patted his chest. “The explosion wasn’t your fault. Neither were the robots. All I saw was you being a hero, as usual. How did you get here before Tony, anyway?”

He ducked his head, studying the pattern on his borrowed shirt. “We might need to replace one of the windows in my lab. I heard the explosion through the phone and … got angry.”

Darcy laughed. “Well, I like you fine when you’re angry. Now, you wanna get some coffee?”


	6. Inappropriate Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 5 - Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis "Oh, don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view" for insanepinky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/162620652710/happy-birthday-insanepinky) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11365524/chapters/25550925)

It was all Jane’s fault.

* * *

Darcy sat at her desk and drowned in paperwork. Someone had to read and approve all the terms and conditions, and it certainly wasn’t going to be Jane or any of her other scientists. Darcy was the only one with the right combination of patience and a working knowledge of both the legal and scientific jargon needed.

A collection of machines hummed and whirred softly, collecting and processing data as their inventor slumbered nearby. One made a knocking noise and she made a mental note to break out the duct tape when she had the chance. If only Jane would let her use the considerable budget to buy a replacement.

Wait. Slumbered?

“Jane? Janey? If you’re going to nap, do it in your own room. This is a place for people who are awake.”

Still no movement from her friend. Pushing off with one foot to send her office chair across the lab, Darcy poked Jane with her stylus.

Jane bolted upright from the machine she'd been using as a pillow, head twisting from side to side. One flailing arm knocked the cup of coffee cooling beside her and it tipped. “Wha-”

“Dammit,” Darcy cursed, reaching for the cup as it splashed tepid liquid across Jane’s notes, and worse, the power cord with peeling duct tape stretched across the desk. A crackle of noise, a shower of sparks, and the fire alarm blared to life as the machine began to smoke.

“My research!” Jane cried, trying to shield it from the sprinklers.

Darcy scrambled to yank the power cord from the socket. “Friday, can you please turn that off?” She breathed a sigh of relief when the lab went silent again. She really had to talk to Pepper about appropriate fire protocols, because the lab was soaked. At least the fire seemed to be out. Hands on her hips, she turned to glare at her friend. “Go and sleep, Jane. Let me tidy this up before you trigger a full tower evacuation.”

“That was one time!” Jane mumbled, but she shuffled to the door nonetheless.

Stripping off her soaked sweater and wringing out her hair, Darcy got to work.

She wiped off the flat surfaces and collected all the papers she could salvage, laying them out to dry. As she went to find the mop, she heard someone curse.

Darcy had been working with scientists for several years now and had perfected the art of deciphering swearing. She could distinguish “ouch I stubbed my toe” (Eric and Tony) from “oops my latest invention might mean the end of the world as we know it” (usually Tony, though also Helen on one memorable occasion). This continuous stream of quiet cussing held annoyance and self-recrimination with a side of embarrassment and was not a voice often heard in the labs.

“Barton?”

Sudden silence, then-

“No?”

Fighting back the urge to giggle, Darcy looked around. “Where are you? You need some help?”

“I'm in the vents, and, uh, I think I'm stuck.”

Darcy's brows flew upwards. “How'd you manage that?”

“What, the vents or the stuck?”

“Both. Either. No, wait, how can I help?”

“I was taking a nap until some alarm went off. When I tried to move, I couldn't.”

Darcy's forehead wrinkled in thought. “Does it smell up there?”

“Are you asking about my bathing habits? Because I can assure you, I-”

“No, does it smell like bananas?”

“Yeah, it does. I thought it was someone's perfume or something.”

Darcy snorted. “That would be the heat-activated adhesive that Tony keeps on hand. Hold on, let me get the solvent.”

“Sure, sure. I'll just wait here.” An off-key rendition of  _All by Myself_ followed Darcy down the hall.

“Okay, I've got it. Where are you?”

Under his direction, she located the vent opening in the corner of the lab. Stacking chair on top of table, she managed to get head and shoulders into the vents. Shining her phone torch in, she got a first class view of Barton's ass. It was a very nice view, she mused. Unfortunately, now was probably not the right time to cop a feel, not when they'd barely swapped more than a few flirty remarks.

He twisted the top half of his body to look at her, squinting in the light of her phone. “A little help?”

Scolding herself to be sensible, she applied enough of the solvent to let him wiggle free. When he started to peel himself away from the vent beneath him, Darcy dropped back into Jane’s lab, disturbing some of the papers drying on the desk. She bent to pick them up and heard a low whistle from behind her.

“Something for you, Barton?”

She turned to see him grinning wickedly, seated on the chair she used to reach the vent. “Oh, don't mind me. Just enjoying the view.”

Glancing down, Darcy realised her top was near see-through and her leggings weren't much better, thanks to the sprinklers. About to make a scathing reply, she looked up again and nearly took a step back at the heat in his eyes.

Well.

“Like what you see?” Deliberately, she licked her lips, noting how his gaze moved to her mouth.

His voice dropped nearly an octave when he replied, “thought I made that pretty clear. If you're interested, that is.”

Throwing sensible to the wind, she crossed the room to flick the lock on the door, in case Jane had a change of heart. When she turned around, he was  _right there_ , his bulk crowding her against the door.

“Are you sure about this?” His breath washed over her neck and she shivered.

She nodded mutely and then he was kissing her, those glorious arms lifting her up to lock her legs around his waist. She moaned into his mouth and twined her fingers in her hair.

When they finally pulled apart, they are both panting heavily and her lips felt swollen. “Dayum Barton, that's a heck of a kiss.”

He chuckled. “Under the circumstances, I think you can call me Clint.”

He lowered his lips to hers again and she stopped thinking altogether.

* * *

It was all Jane’s fault, but on the whole, Darcy wasn't complaining.


	7. Cupcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 19 - Possessive tasertooth for hkthauer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/163163754145/happy-birthday-hkthauer) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11365524/chapters/25926801)

Waking up next to Victor, Darcy thought, was a lot like having an electric blanket in the middle of summer. He was curved around her, one leg thrown over hers and a large hand resting over the soulmark on her ribs. She wriggled a little, trying to get free, but it was a losing proposition, as he shifted to compensate every time she got some space.

“Victor…”

He muttered sleepily, hot breath against the back of her neck, and snuggled closer. She slapped his hand lightly.

“Let me out, you meanie. One of us needs to go to work.”

Grumbling softly, he loosened his hold and she slid out of his embrace, feeling cold the second his arms were no longer around her. Twisting her hair into a loose knot, she headed for the shower to get ready. She blew him a kiss before stepping into the bathroom; one eye cracked open, he caught it with a lazy grin as she shut the door between them.

* * *

“Tut, tut, texting at work?”

Darcy sent her message and put her phone down, raising her eyebrows at the man on the other side of her desk. “Can I help you, Johnny?”

Johnny Storm leaned across the desk, flashing a blindingly white smile in her direction. “I don’t know, can you?”

“If that’s a question, the answer’s no. I’m on my lunch break and so is Pepper, so go away and next time, make an appointment.”

He mimed a stabbing motion over his heart. “Ouch. How about I take you out for lunch, then?”

“No thanks. I already have plans.”

“What are they? Because I’m-”

Darcy tilted her chin behind him and he spun, coming face to chest with a silently glowering Sabretooth. He would later claim he did not, in fact, jump two feet and squeal like a little girl, but two witnesses and Stark’s security footage would definitely disagree.

“Just let me send this email and I’ll be right with you, cupcake.”

“Cupcake?” The incredulous question came from two throats at the same time.

“You’re dating him?” “Cupcake?”

“No, Johnny, we’re not dating,” Darcy said, gathering her purse and smiling condescendingly. “We’re soulmates.” She looped an arm through Victor’s and tugged him away from the still-staring Johnny. “If you still want to see Pepper, make an appointment.”

As soon as they were in the elevator, she patted Victor’s chest. “Thanks for not stabbing him. You know how Pepper feels about blood on her carpets.”

He shuddered at the memory of being dressed down by an irate Pepper, then, “Cupcake?” he repeated.

“Bad nickname? I can work on it. How about pumpkin?”

He growled into her hair in response and she giggled.

* * *

On their first real dinner date, about a week later, they ran into a problem. Darcy let the maitre d’ take her coat and Victor had to stop himself from gaping at her dress. Red and strapless, clinging to every curve.

“Wouldn’t have let you out in public if I knew you were wearing that.”

Darcy froze in the act of pushing a stray curl behind one ear. “Excuse me? I did not totally hear you say that, dude.”

Victor snarled at a nearby man, letting his canines show. “People are staring.” The diner gulped and looked away, his face a pasty white that pleased Victor immensely.

Huffing out an exasperated breath, Darcy folded her arms, boosting her breasts and drawing every eye, including his. “So let them stare. I bought this dress to be eye-catching and I like it. Whose extremely grumpy words are scrawled over my side, again?”

“Mine,” he admitted, one hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck.

She nodded, regal as any queen. “Exactly. Not any of them, no matter how much they look.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, but if you try to police what I wear, we are going to have a conversation and it is not going to end with me ditching half my wardrobe.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but judging discretion the better part of valour, he shut it again.

Seeing his capitulation, Darcy softened. “I wore it for you, you know. Stop complaining and maybe I’ll let you peel me out of it later.”

A grin stole across his face and his voice came out a purr. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”


	8. Auspicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 10 - A daisy/logan where they are soulmates but he rejected her for jean and the come back to her when jean goes to cyclops but she is like "nope i dont need you now" for millaraysuyai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/164012949115/happy-birthday-millaraysuyai) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11683542/chapters/26508213)

“ _Keep your head down!_ ”

Skye barely registered the building collapsing behind her or the body shielding hers from the debris as the gruff words reverberated around her skull. When the world stopped shaking, she looked up at the speaker. Big and buff as hell, with long metal claws extending from his hands, he was already up and looking around them, a frown on his rugged features. He must be part of that other team Coulson had mentioned asking for assistance, the one with powers.

She touched his arm to get his attention - no point risking a missed connection, not when she’d been planning what to say ever since she learned to read.

“ _Thanks for saving me. I always thought it was an auspicious start._ ”

It came out perfectly - early drafts hadn’t included  _auspicious_ , but she felt it fit.

He looked over at her, dark gaze flicking across her face. “Sorry, not interested.”

With that, he turned back to scanning the streets as her mouth dropped open. “But- but you said my words! You’re my-”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not in the market for a soulmate.”

Skye gaped, one unthinking hand rubbing at the words on her side as he loped away, towards the sound of fighting. Only when he was out of view did she let herself sink back, hot tears pricking at her eyes. First her parents, now her soulmate. What was so wrong with her she wasn’t enough for any of them?

“Skye? Skye, report.”

She jumped and remembered her communicator, taking a second to make sure her voice was steady before she spoke. “I’m fine, May. I wasn’t in the building when it came down.” Gritting her teeth, she turned back to the mission. If she kicked a brick or two in helpless frustration, well, no-one was there to notice.

With the unexpected help, it was over quickly. Soon, the two teams were gathered to be introduced properly. Though she tried to concentrate, all Skye could remember was that her soulmate was introduced as Logan, and while his gaze skated over her with barely a nod of acknowledgement, it lingered on a redhead standing beside their leader.

She begged off post-mission and new-allies celebrations with a headache. It wasn’t totally a lie: by the time they got back to the Bus, there was an insistent pounding somewhere behind her eyes. She made her way to her cubby: not much more than a foldout bed but dim and soundproof. In its privacy, she finally allowed herself to cry.

At a light tapping on the door, she scrubbed one hand across her face and hit the door release, heart in her throat. It sank to her toes when the silhouette revealed was too small to be Logan.

“I brought you a painkiller,” Jemma said, offering her a pill and a bottle of water. “I- are you crying?”

“Not anymore.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Thanks for the painkiller.”

“No problem. I’ll tell the others not to bother you.”

As promised, no-one else came to check on her, not even the one she wanted.

* * *

He didn’t message her, either, after they returned to their respective bases, and though she sent a tentative offer of friendship to the email address she hacked into their system to get, he never replied. She sent a few more to various addresses and accounts, not proud of the pleading tone the last few took until a curt ‘ _please stop emailing’_  halted them in their tracks.

She would’ve been proud of finally provoking him to a response if it hadn’t hurt so much, if subsequent emails hadn’t met an apathetic silence.

Days turned into weeks turned into months, and finally, she stopped waiting. She found her father, and her mother, and then lost them both. She gained powers and it occurred to her that with them, she could probably join the X-Men if she wanted.

She didn’t.

When Jean Grey married Scott Summers on the grounds of the Xavier Institute, the Agents of SHIELD and her own fledgeling team of Inhumans were in attendance. Officially, SHIELD didn’t exist. Then again, neither did the X-Men. There was a nice sort of symmetry about that.

The ceremony was short and touching, and Daisy spent the entire time ignoring the man watching her from across the aisle. As soon as the happy couple reached the last row of seats, she was out of her seat, using her size to slip through the crowd and to the front of the quickly-growing reception line.

Scott took her congratulations with a smile and offered his own on her new team; Jean gave her an odd look but was quickly distracted by the next people in line. Duty done, she found Mack and Elena and glued herself to their sides right through the reception dinner.

* * *

“No way!” Lincoln exclaimed as Shadowcat stuck her hand through his shoulder. Distracted by their byplay, she didn’t notice the hulking shadow until he stood at her shoulder.

“Skye…”

“It’s Daisy,” she corrected. “And you know what? Don’t even bother.”

He paused. “Is there someone else?”

She shook her head. “No. But someday there might be. And I deserve better than a man who would reject me out of hand for a woman who is in love with another man.”

“But-”

“I’m nobody’s second choice, Logan.”

“I wanted to - to apologise.”

“Great. You can go now.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders slump. Once again, he walked away; this time, she didn’t watch him go. Instead, her own name caught her attention

“And Daisy can - hey Daisy, come and show Kitty what you can do.”

Smiling, Daisy went to join her friends.


	9. Pretty Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 31 - Involving a kitten in some way, Shieldshock for idontgettechnology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/164817866675/happy-birthday-idontgettechnology) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11683542/chapters/27036957)

“Hey Rogers, come check this out!”

Steve snapped his shield back into place at Barton’s voice. “What is it?”

“Clint’s made a new friend,” Romanoff said dryly. “You can relax, Cap. Probably.” She stood at Barton’s back, watching his six as he peered into the gap between two bits of debris.

“Stick your hand in here,” Barton said. “See if you can reach. My arm’s a little short.”

“What am I trying to get?” Steve asked, doing as Barton said anyway. “I - what the hell?” He pulled his arm out and stared at the scrappy bit of fluff attached to his glove.

“Saw it dash in here during the fight. Lemme- no, I think it likes you.” Barton backed away from the hissing kitten with his hands up, one sporting three parallel scratches. Romanoff didn’t bother trying to hide her amusement.

“You said that about the bilgesnipe that tried to trample me last month,” Steve muttered, trying to detach the tiny kitten and failing. “Huh. Weird.”

“Yeah?”

“I used to be allergic to cats. Guess the serum took care of that as well.”

“Great! What are you going to call it?”

“I’m not going to keep it,” Steve protested. “There's a no-pet policy at the Tower, remember?”

At Romanoff’s pointed look, he sighed. “I don't even like cats.” Cradling the kitten against his chest, he looked around. “Is there a vet nearby?”

* * *

There was indeed a vet, and thanks to the chaos downtown, she had a gap in her schedule long enough for the newly-christened Diana to be properly vetted, vaccinated, and microchipped, hissing at the indignity the entire time.

He didn't mean to keep Diana a secret, but they entered at the ground floor of the Tower and Stark landed on the penthouse balcony alongside Thor. It was only natural that Steve would stop by his rooms on the way up. The second he closed the door behind him, Diana jumped down and shot behind his couch, taking a swipe when he tried to coax her out. He decided to let her be and went to the debriefing alone.

In between property damage figures and tactical analysis, it hardly seemed like the right time to talk about a kitten. It didn’t really matter. She spent most of her time hiding somewhere in his rooms, anyway.

* * *

“Jane, I got those readings you wanted. I- oh.” One hand over her eyes, Darcy backed away from the lab. As close as she and Jane were, that was way more than she had ever wanted to see of her boss. “Next time put a sock on the door,” she yelled from the safety of the corridor, doing just that with one she had snagged on her way out.

She looked down at the papers in her hand and sighed. As much as she stared, they did not magically turn into the tablet she’d left in the lab. “Guess I have to find something else to do.” It wouldn’t be so bad if she had someone of her own, but she hadn’t been on a date in months. The NDAs and her work schedule made it well-nigh impossible.

Silently contemplating her life choices, a movement from above caught her eye. She blinked, looked again. “What are you doing up there?”

“Mmr.”

Leaving the readings outside the door, she reached up to the ceiling vent. “C’mere kitty. Tony better not find out about you.”

With a soft  _whump_  her hands were full of soft grey fur. “Aren’t you a pretty kitty, then? You’re a bit skinny, aren’t you? Where’d you come from? I should get you something to eat.”

With an armful of kitten, she took the lift to the common room. It seemed happy to wash itself on the counter as she cracked open a can of tuna and allowed her to pet it as it ate. Still, when she put the plate in the dishwasher, the kitten jumped off the counter and disappeared - probably back into the vents. Briefly, she considered asking JARVIS, but then it’d get back to Tony and she didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.

She shrugged and pushed the kitten to the back of her mind. She was in the common room, with a well-stocked pantry at her disposal. She might as well get baking.

* * *

Steve shook the bowl of food, looking around. “Diana?”

Although she enjoyed conspicuously ignoring him from a distance, more often than not he had no idea where in his rooms she was. Mealtimes were the only reliable time he saw her. Thankfully, he hadn’t been called out for long since she’d moved in - he didn’t know how she’d get fed, as both Stark and JARVIS were officially unaware of her presence, and they were the ones who could set up some sort of automatic feeder. He suspected JARVIS knew and was helping to keep her secret, but there was no way to tell.

Just as he was about to get worried, he spotted a pointed head poking around the corner. She stalked towards him, regally lowering her head to eat, albeit more slowly than when she’d first moved in. The vet had warned him she might try to gorge, so he had to give her smaller portions until she learned not to stuff her face.

Briefly, he wondered if she’d eaten already - but no, she still took swipes at Barton, and Romanoff wisely kept her distance. He took a bite of the muffin he’d grabbed from the common room and shrugged.

* * *

Darcy saw the kitten more frequently, after that. She took to having a can of tuna on hand (“brainfood, Janey, in case I get hungry!”) and coaxed the kitten into staying for snuggles even after the fish was gone.

“There are definite advantages to living here,” she confided in the kitten one evening. “For instance, the eye candy here is first class. I’m even friends with some of the Avengers - well, they eat my baking. It’s a pity the only one of them I want doesn’t know I exist, but a girl can dream, can’t she?”

She looked up as the elevator  _dinged_ , revealing Clint and Nat in heated discussion. Both halted when they saw her and she froze, one hand lifted above the kitten’s head. An imperious paw batted at her hand until she resumed petting.

“You’ve tamed Steve’s hellcat,” Clint said, staring. “That’s not fair!”

“Steve - Steve Rogers!? I’ve stolen Captain America’s cat?” At Darcy’s yelp, the kitten shot upright, claws digging into Darcy’s legs. “Sorry, kitty,” she murmured, trying to dislodge her and failing.

“Did you break into his rooms to take her?” Nat asked, crossing to the fridge.

“What? No! She just turns up and I feed her.”

“Then I think you’re safe from the stealing thing.”

Darcy stared down at the tiny kitten. “Captain America has a cat? Captain America is the one breaking Tony’s no-pet rule? I thought it was one of the girls down in Engineering!”

The elevator  _dinged_  again, and the man himself strode out, looking unusually harried. “Barton, there you are. Have you seen Diana? She didn’t turn up for dinner and - why are you laughing?”

Clint gestured grandly towards Darcy, whose mouth was hanging open in amazement. “My work here is done.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Nat reminded him.

“Uh, that’s my cat,” Steve said to Darcy, who immediately offered her up. Or tried. Diana yowled in protest. “No, no, I think she likes you.”

“Are we having a party in here?” Tony asked, and Steve dove to cover Diana from view. Of course, as she was still in Darcy’s lap, he ended up kneeling at her feet, his hands over hers. Tony stared. “Proposing already, Cap? I didn’t think you and Lewis knew each other.”

“It’s new,” Steve said, flushing.

“Well, I’ll let you two lovebirds be. I just came down to grab a snack”

They stayed frozen as Tony puttered around the kitchen, assembling a frankenplate of cheese slices, bread, sprinkles, a chocolate bar, and marshmallow fluff. It made Darcy’s teeth hurt to look at it, which made a nice change from thinking about the superhero right in front of her.

As Tony returned to the elevator, he tossed over his shoulder, “You can keep the cat, Rogers. I only told Clint he couldn’t keep the dog here because it tried to eat my pizza. I didn’t think he’d actually move out.”

Casting a look at the couch, Nat dragged a spluttering Clint away.

“I’m not actually proposing,” Steve said, rather unnecessarily, once they were alone. It was nice to know he was as awkward as she was, she decided.

“I kinda got that.”

“But, uh, coffee?”

She smiled. “Coffee would be great.”

Underneath their joined hands, Diana started purring.


	10. Good enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September 3 - "They're not good enough for you." Sam/Darcy for whedonista93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/164923760850/happy-birthday-whedonista93) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11984586/chapters/27109683)

Sam looked up at the knock on his door. Putting Redwing aside, he opened it to - “whoa.”

Darcy looked down, blushing. “Is it too much?”

“Beautiful woman offering me baked goods? I don’t think too much is an option. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, I was baking this afternoon and the recipe made way more cookies than I should be eating on my own, so I thought they’d make a nice thank you for helping me put that shelf up last week.”

“That’s what neighbours are for, Darce. It was only fair, after you taught me how to use my new coffee machine -”

“I couldn’t let you go without coffee!” Darcy protested. “And you were so good at helping me salvage that pot roast -”

“- But I was referring to the dress.”

“Oh! It’s our anniversary today. We’re going out to dinner.”

Sam pasted a smile on. “Congratulations! A year, huh? Hadn’t known it had been that long.”

“Yeah, well, he’s really busy… anyway, I should let you be. If you don’t like them, you can leave them in the common room. I won’t be offended or anything.”

Sam drew the plate of cookie in protectively. “And let Clint stuff his face with them? Hell no!”

They stood staring at each other for a moment and let the silence stretch.

“You should probably get going then,” Sam said. “Have a good night.”

Darcy beamed. “You too!”

He waited for her front door to close between them before shutting his own and very carefully thumping his forehead against it. “Get a grip, Wilson,” he muttered.

* * *

He didn’t mean to wait up. He certainly hadn’t intended to be there when Darcy brought her boyfriend home. For a state-of-the-art building, the Tower had some very thin walls.

But the footsteps down the corridor were alone and ended with quiet cursing.

Sam cracked his door open and peered out. “Everything okay?”

Darcy turned to face him, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I was still awake. Bad night?”

She scrubbed one hand over her eyes, which only served to smear it further. “Yeah, you could say that.” She looked at the black on her hand and laughed bitterly. “Perfect. He was right, I am a mess. Lost my keycard and everything.”

“Don’t say that!” Sam pushed his door open. “Here, you wanna come in for a bit while you look for it? I’ve been told I make a mean cup of coffee.”

“Yeah, okay.” Shouldering her handbag, she followed him inside. She sank into in an armchair with a sigh, easing out of her heels and dumping her handbag on the coffee table in front of her.

Phone. Wallet. Lipstick. Mirror. Tissues. Coin purse. Sam felt his eyes go wider as the list went on. Advil. Headphones. Notebook. Umbrella.

“How do you fit all that in there?”

Darcy gave him a watery smile. “Bigger than it looks, huh? Oh, here it is!” She pulled her keycard out but made no move to stand.

He pushed a mug of coffee at her, which she took gratefully, hugging it to her chest. “You want to talk about it?”

Darcy looked into the mug, her smile fading.

“Or not, you don’t -”

“Bastard dumped me,” she said. “Said it felt like our lives were going in different directions and he needed someone who was supportive of his career.”

She scowled. “How come he’s the only one allowed to have a career? I handle the logistics for the entire R&D division of Stark Industries, and he thinks I’m still fetching coffee.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you,” Sam said.

Her eyes flicked up to his, wide and surprised. “I - Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Like - no. How long have you been looking at me like that and how have I never noticed?”

“Since you dressed down Tony for blowing up the communal coffee machine,” he admitted, after a pause. “You were soaking wet and half a head shorter than him, and he crumbled like a sandcastle in a hurricane. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“But - but that was  _months_ ago!”

“Yeah, and you were already going out with that other guy.” He flashed her a smile. “Didn’t mean I couldn’t be a good neighbour, though.”

“You were a very good neighbour,” she confirmed. “But - all this time?”

He nodded. “So what happens now?”

“Well…” she stretched the word out into several syllables. “The neighbourly thing to do would be to come over here and kiss me.”

“Are you sure? Darcy, you just went through a breakup.”

She put the mug down with a clatter, dropping her keycard beside it. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Clambering into his lap, she grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled him into a kiss. It was soft, and sweet, and when it was over Darcy rested against his chest, her head nestled underneath his chin.

“Sam, you are the best guy ever, you know that?”

He looked down at her. “Right now, I’d say I’m certainly the luckiest.”

One hand pushed against him so she could look into his face. “Smooth talker. C’mon and kiss me again.”

He was only too happy to do so.


	11. Darcy's (ginger) kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 4 - Darcy/redeemed Rumlow, something sweet or funny, for kitrazzle, maybe ABO, mythical creature or magic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/167113678510/happy-birthday-kitrazzle) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12590360/chapters/28769049)

“Hey, who’s the hottie in leather?”

Nat chuckled. “You’re not getting out of physical training like this, Darcy.”

“Oh darn. But really, who is he?”

The redhead turned to follow Darcy’s gaze and stiffened. “Stay away from him.”

Darcy groaned. “Why’d you have to say that? Now I have to meet him.”

“I’m not joking about, Darcy,” Nat insisted, unusually solemn. “That’s Brock Rumlow. Fury sent him deep undercover into HYDRA and honestly, we’re not sure how much of a cover it was.”

“Why is he here, then?”

“You know Steve — gives out second chances like candy. But on our side or not, he’s dangerous. Word is they experimented on him, tried to make their own super-soldier.”

“Fine, message received,” Darcy said, making a face. “Come on, let’s get this over and done with. I’ve got baking I want to get to.”

Despite her best efforts, her thoughts drifted back to him throughout her workout, and in her distraction, Nat knocked her to the floor four times before declaring the day hopeless and setting her on the treadmill instead.

* * *

“So what do you think?”

Brock shrugged. “If I say it was impressive, will that keep Stark happy?” The other man had been distinctly wary of accepting him as one of the Avengers, but he could hardly argue with character references from both Fury and Rogers.

Rogers grinned in response and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Who was that with Romanoff in the gym?”

A crease appeared between Rogers’ eyebrows. “Who, Darcy? She’s Dr Foster’s assistant, makes the best cookies in the Tower.” The crease cleared away, to be replaced with a frown. “Stay away from her, Rumlow. She’s a nice girl.”

He thought back to the gym, as Darcy struggled to dodge Romanoff’s attacks. She looked small, helpless. Vulnerable. Nobody that should be involved with the likes of him; it was probably for the best.

* * *

Darcy hummed under her breath as she stirred protection into the custard cream. Her Mom swore up and down that it wasn't necessary, but Darcy found it helped her magic stick when her mind was elsewhere. Like today, for example, as she considered the newest Avenger.

Setting the cream aside, she fetched her chilled cookie dough from the fridge and began to roll small spoonfuls in dexterity-and-clear-headedness infused cinnamon sugar. It was no wonder that Clint was addicted to her snickerdoodles, though he liked to pretend that he never took more than one at a time.

Please. As if she didn’t know what went on in her own kitchen.

She slid the cookie sheet into the oven and tested the tray that was cooling on the bench. If they were too hot, they’d melt the cream and go soggy. Judging them not yet ready, she replaced it on the tray and dithered about cleaning up. It was the worst part of baking, but none of her usual minions were around and she didn’t feel up to conscripting the stranger lurking by the pantry.

Trying to put him out of her mind, she wondered what she should make next.

* * *

Brock had meant to keep his distance. There was no reason for him to track down Foster’s assistant, no reason to watch her roll and squash cookies with practised, efficient movements. If he was honest, coming here probably wasn’t the best decision, but he was curious and he’d learnt to trust his instincts.

Besides, those cookies smelled  _amazing_.

As she measured and mixed, he ghosted over, intending to nab one of the cookies on the counter. He reached out and - “ow!”

“They’re not ready,” she told him, not looking up from her bowl.

“Did you just hit me with a wooden spoon?”

“Be glad I’m not up to chopping the apples yet.” She glanced up at him, expression serene but her eyes dancing. “You heal fast, right?”

He snorted. “Sweetheart, good luck getting me with a knife.”

“Got you with this, didn’t I?”

True, and he had to admit he hadn’t been able to dodge that blow - his knuckles were still stinging. “I saw you with Romanoff earlier.”

“And? Pass me the bowl of apples, would you?”

“You weren’t that fast then.”

“That was at the gym. This is my kitchen.” She peeled and sliced the apples, reducing them to cubes and dusting them with leftover cinnamon sugar.

“You say that like it explains everything.”

“Of course it does. Could you get the snickerdoodles out of the oven?”

“What am I, your errand boy?”

Darcy dried her hands on a tea towel and regarded him steadily. “No, you’re the man in my kitchen. You wanna be here, you help out.” Her gaze flicked down to where his hand was stealing towards the cookies on the bench. “And leave those alone.”

Grinning, he fetched the snickerdoodles from the oven and set them next to the other cookies. As if the snickerdoodles emitted a siren call, others began to file in and Darcy put them to work - wiping counters, drying dishes, disposing of the scraps. Finding him in the kitchen, Rogers gave Brock a hard look, which he met with his blandest smile. Barton got his knuckles rapped as well, and Darcy put Rogers in charge of transferring the snickerdoodles from the tray to some plates.

When the kitchen was spotless and the strudel in the oven, Darcy sent them all away with a helping of snickerdoodles and set herself up with the now-cooled cookies and a bowl of cream. Rumlow watched, fascinated, as she took one cookie, flipped it upside down and applied cream before adding another cookie on top for a sandwich effect.

“What are those?”

“My own recipe. I adapted them from ginger kisses but they are a bit more sweet than spiced, good for a light snack before a heading out.”

“So what, they’re Darcy kisses?”

A smile quirked at her lips as she pushed some hair out of her face, leaving a smudge of cream on her cheek. “No, those are different.” A sweep of long lashes as she looked up at him. “But you are welcome to try some now if you want.”

Darcy’s ginger kisses were excellent, he found, but Darcy’s kisses were even better.


	12. Quick dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 20 - Pietro/Darcy (no smut, romantic) with the Soulmate mark "Well, I didn't see that coming" for cassiopeiacaelis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/167692660020/happy-birthday-cassiopeiacaelis) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12590360/chapters/29149680)

Pietro did not like living in the Tower. For one, it still officially bore the name of the man he had hated for much of his adult life. The events in Sokhovia had gone some way to dispelling that unthinking hatred, but they were never going to be friends. He didn’t mind the free accommodation; in his mind, it was the least Stark could do.

No, the problem was that there was no  _space_. True, it was bigger than the cage Strucker had stuck him in after the experiments had worked, but it was nothing compared to the mountains of his homeland or Barton’s farm, where he had spent his recovery. The Tower was all closed spaces and access cards and doors that took far too long to open. Even on the street, he had to weave around tourists and hot dog carts, could never find enough open space to let go and just  _run._

When word filtered down that the complex in upstate New York was almost complete, Pietro jumped at the chance to move, even though the labs were the first to be completed and all the current residents were scientists. He  _liked_  Doctor Cho: it was her invention that had saved his life. There were some others there as well, but he had tuned Cap out by then, too eager to get going.

At first, it was wonderful. He had all the space he wanted with no-one to bother him or get in his way, but all too soon he was bored. What on earth was he supposed to do all day? He supposed the others had to train, but no-one had been able to come up with a way to counter the advantage his speed gave him. When he voiced his boredom to Barton, the archer had come up with a surprising suggestion.

“Go and annoy the scientists. I’m sure they can think of something for you to do.”

So he scouted out the labs. Despite superficial similarities, they were nothing like Strucker’s. Both were full of clever, hard-working people, but where Strucker’s scientists were driven by fear, Stark’s were filled with a bone-deep desire to learn. They were also better funded and far too ethical to dream of human experimentation on anyone but themselves, but the biggest difference came in the person of one Ms Darcy Lewis.

He first came across her chewing out a researcher for failing to follow proper lab safety procedures.

“Do you know how many explosions we’ve had in these labs?” she demanded. “Zero, that’s how many, and I’d like to keep it that way, so next time you want to work with a highly flammable substance, I’d appreciate it if you request it like a normal person instead of fetching it yourself and carrying it through the halls with no containment.”

Watching with interest from across the hall, Pietro thought he might be falling in love.

He  _definitely_  fell in love when she faced down Tony Stark for causing the actual first explosion in the complex.

His sister laughed her ass off when he confided in her. “And what does the formidable Darcy think of all of this?”

“I haven’t actually spoken to her,” he admitted.

Wanda’s eyes went wide. “Then she could be-”

“No, Wanda. My mark is in Sokhovian, remember?”

Her face fell. “Very well. But that does not mean you cannot court her.”

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh?”

She ruffled his hair, eyes dancing. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

* * *

Darcy narrowed her eyes at the mug of coffee at her elbow. She could’ve sworn she had drained it about an hour ago, yet there is sat, steaming away. Since Stark hadn’t yet gotten around to inventing self-refilling coffee mugs, she had to conclude that someone had filled it for her, but that was about as far as her tired mind could reason. She took a sip and sighed as the caffeine hit her bloodstream — black with one sugar, just how she liked it.

Looking around, she noticed one of her scientists listing to one side at her workstation. “Helen!” she called, putting her mug to one side.

Dr Cho jerked upright, shaking her head. “Wha-”

“Time for bed,” Darcy commanded, walking over to pluck the pen from Helen’s grasp. “I’ll tidy up, you can go save more lives in the morning.”

Helen smiled tiredly at her. “Thank you, Darcy. I lose track of time sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Darcy flapped a hand at her, shooing her away. “You’re not the first and you’re certainly not going to be the last. How are the modifications to the Cradle going?”

“Quite well, actually. I think I’ve cracked how to speed up the healing a hundredfold. Pietro’s been a lot of help, letting me test his metabolism and incorporate it into the healing process.”

“Pietro? Quicksilver?”

“Do you know another Pietro?” Helen asked, lips quirked.

“Technically, I don’t even know this one. We’ve never actually met. But he’s here at the Complex?”

“Yes, and he’s both proof positive my Cradle works and looking better than ever now he’s on a proper nutrition plan.” Helen gave Darcy a sideways look. “Now, if I was a little bit younger… he’s your age, isn’t he?”

Darcy blushed, not willing to admit she’d looked him up and knew exactly how old he was. “You should go to bed.”

Helen’s grin turned wicked. “So should you. Quick dreams, Darcy.”

“Don’t you mean sweet dreams?”

“I suppose so. Sometimes these English idioms confuse me.” Affecting an innocent look, Helen hurried away.

Shaking her head, Darcy returned to her workstation. There was no way she’d be able to focus on paperwork now, but she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon either. Clicking through a few websites, she found one of those ‘how to’ sites, plugged in her headphones, and settled in for the night.

* * *

He made her coffee. He brought her chocolates. He gathered flowers and left them in a vase on her desk. He just hadn’t managed to talk to her yet.

Wanda thought he was the biggest idiot to walk this earth. “Just go ask her out,” she insisted. “The worst she can say is no.”

Finally, he gathered his courage, careful to go slow though he felt like buzzing out of his skin with nerves. Darcy looked up as he approached and he felt his throat go dry, all of his carefully prepared words evaporating. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but she beat him to it.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she said in passable Sokhovian. “It’s nice to meet you at last.”

He felt his jaw drop and reached for the only words of English he could remember. “I didn’t see that coming.”

Shock widened her eyes before her lips curved into a brilliant smile, one hand coming to rest over her side. “You didn’t? I mean, I didn’t either, but-”

“You speak Sokhovian?”

She angled her screen so he could see ‘Sokhovian for dummies’ splashed across the top. “I started learning a few weeks ago,” she admitted. “After you got me coffee that first time.”

“You knew it was me?”

“Well, I knew I didn’t see who filled it. Once I knew you were here, it wasn’t terribly hard to work it out.” She paused. “So, soulmates, huh?”

He nodded, then looked comically worried. “I really did not expect — I mean, I never could’ve hoped — Can I take you out for coffee?” he blurted.

Darcy smiled. “I’d love that.”


	13. Cheesecake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 24 - Tasertooth with a sprinkle of feminism and over-protective brother/father figures (The Avengers) for multi-fandom-girl2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/167829558225/happy-birthday-multi-fandom-girl2) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12590360/chapters/29245875)

“Okay, I’m heading off for the night!”

Tony looked up and whistled. “Nice dress, Lewis. Got a hot date tonight?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Grinning as Tony’s jaw dropped, she turned to go.

Only to find the door slide shut in her face, and refuse to open. Darcy spun on one heel. “What the hell, Tony?”

“Who is this date with? Do I know him? Has he been properly vetted?”

“Are you done?” Darcy asked, exasperated. “I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll let you go when you answer my questions.”

“That’s not how this works, Tony. Despite rampant speculation, you are not my father and I wouldn’t answer those questions from him either, though I might expect them.” She turned back to the door. “Jarvis, I’m initiating subroutine 131 to shut down this lab for the evening and send everyone home. Please disengage the doors.”

“Certainly, Miss Lewis. Subroutine 131 engaged.”

The doors swished open and Darcy walked out, enjoying how the click of her heels on the floor made a very nice counterpoint to Tony spluttering behind her.

“What — what is subroutine 131? I didn’t program it, Jarvis. Jarvis?”

* * *

The problem with a communal kitchen, Darcy mused, was that other people used it. Her focus on the coffee machine was broken by the regard of an eagle-eyed archer paying far too much attention to her neckline.

“Is that a hickey, Darce?”

She decided to brazen it out, now that her coffee was brewed. “So what if it is?”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, you move fast.”

“As a matter of fact, we’ve been seeing each other for a while.”

She could see the gears ticking over in his head. “Is it Carmichael?” She shook her head. “Jenkins?” She shook her head. “Hunter?”

“Give it up, Barton, you’re not going to guess. Why are you being so pushy, anyway?”

“Because you’re being cagey, and that’s got me curious. I can’t believe you’re going steady with a guy I’ve never met.”

Something must have shown on her face because he leapt on it faster than Thor on the last poptart. “We  _have_  met! It can’t be one of the other Avengers, you would’ve slipped up by now, but one of the other teams we liaise with? Is it Johnny Storm? I know he was hitting on you last time they swung by.”

“Nuh-uh, he’s not my type. And would you look at the time? I gotta go get ready.” Clutching her mug to her chest, Darcy fled before she could give it away. She wasn’t ashamed, but she knew her friends too well to think they’d approve of her choice and she wanted to put that conversation off as long as possible.

“Give it up, Darcy,” Clint yelled from behind her. “I’ll work it out soon enough.”

Darcy shook her head and kept walking.

* * *

Darcy loved living in New York, except for when she hated it. Something about it seemed to attract the brunt of alien invasions, mad scientists, and general mayhem, criminal and otherwise.

She blamed the tourists.

It was a typical winter’s day, blustery and cold, the kind of day Darcy would happily have avoided, except her favourite cafe required stepping outside. Besides, the X-Men were in town and Darcy wanted to get out of the Tower.

Headphones in, hands stuffed in her pockets, and scarf wound tightly around her neck, Darcy trotted down the street. Spotting a bank ahead, she remembered she had to get some cash out and stepped inside. Right then, the idiot behind her pulled a gun and yelled for everyone to get down.

Darcy hit the floor and hit the panic alarm on her bracelet in the same movement. Lip curled, she watched the guy rush up to the counter and demand cash. He had no idea how much trouble he was in — and he didn’t even have any accomplices, either.

Screw this. She wanted her white chocolate raspberry muffin, and if she was stuck in here for too long, they’d run out.

Furnished with a bag of cash, the would-be robber backed towards the doors. She waited for him to get within reach before tasing him. He fell to the ground twitching, seconds before the windows burst in. Tony hovered outside, one arm still raised. He was no doubt recording everything through the suit.

This meant he had a prime view of the 280-pound mutant bounding in and scooping her up in his arms.

“Who do I need to kill?” Victor muttered into her hair.

Darcy took a second to cuddle into him before shaking her head. “It’s okay, I took care of it.”

“What happened?”

“Just some stupid bank robber. Turned his back on me and my taser.”

She could feel the shaking in his chest as he struggled to contain his laughter. “Good.”

There was a familiar whine behind him and she froze. “Uh-oh.”

“What is it?” he asked, going still.

“Sabretooth, put the girl down,” Tony commanded through his Iron Man suit, weapons fired up and ready.

Darcy muttered a swear word under her breath. “Oh, this is going to be great fun.”

“I’m warning you,” Tony continued.

She swatted at Victor’s chest. “Put me down, you big lug.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Remember that thing you like with the chocolate sauce? Well, if you ever want to enjoy it with me again, you will put. Me. Down.” She punctuated each word with a jab to his chest and he growled.

“Fine.”

Thor reached them seconds after her feet touched the ground again, closely followed by a bunch of other heroes — some she recognised, some she didn’t. It seemed she’d interrupted some sort of meeting.

“Lady Darcy! Are you well?” Thor boomed.

Darcy nodded. “Yeah, sorry I panicked and hit the button. I ended up tasing the guy, he’s back there.”

There was a team of police officers entering the bank, so Thor merely glanced behind her before returning his attention to the mutant with a possessive arm around Darcy’s waist. “And who is this?”

“This is Victor, he’s—”

“What are you doing with him?” Tony asked.

“I was literally just telling you that, Tony.”

“You should step away, Darcy, he’s not safe.”

Darcy looked pointedly at Tony’s weapons. “Neither are you. Power those down before somebody gets hurt.”

He stiffened, which she hadn’t thought possible when wearing the armour. “Are you under duress? Professor, is there any sign of coercion?”

“She sure ain’t in her right mind if she’s with the bastard by choice,” someone muttered in the crowd, obviously pitched loud enough for everyone to hear. Darcy pegged Wolverine as the speaker and glared at him.

“Would you like to say that to my taser?” She tossed her hair and shifted her glare to Tony. “I’m fine, we’re happy, and you can go back to whatever meeting of the minds I interrupted.”

“She’s telling the truth,” another of the mutants confirmed. “Apart from the happy part, but I think that’s more situational than general.”

“He was your hot date?” Tony exploded, finally putting the pieces together.

Darcy threaded her fingers through Victor’s and shrugged. “Yes. And I don’t need your permission or your approval, so shut it.”

The pronouncement did nothing to ease the tension until Clint pushed his way to the front. “This is the hickey guy?” He shook his head with a low whistle. “You were right, I wasn’t going to guess that.” He paused. “So Darce, what was that thing you were threatening Sabretooth with? The chocolate sauce thing? Heard it through Tony’s comms and enquiring minds want to know.”

Darcy smiled blithely. “Cheesecake. Victor just loves my homemade cheesecake.”

“Wha- you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Her smile turned a little bit evil. “You’ll never know.” She tugged on Victor’s hand, her fingers interlocked with and dwarfed by his. “Come on, let’s go have cheesecake.”

Victor grinned as the assembled heroes had no choice but to let them through. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?” he asked, loud enough for their audience to hear. Various among them choked, including his brother. In other circumstances, he would stay to laugh at their faces. Today, he had other things on his mind.

Things like Darcy. And cheesecake.


	14. that’s how it works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 11 - Wintershock, becoming a family in some way, for tolovewhatismortal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/168426569190/happy-birthday-tolovewhatismortal) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12887589/chapters/29684487)

Rain trickled down down the window and Darcy hugged her mug closer. If this were a movie, there should be a sad song on the radio, something to match her mood. She would curl up in her big bay window as a single tear trickled down her cheek, to match the droplets on the window.

Instead, her lounge was filled with some ridiculously poppy tune that was totally killing her mood but she couldn’t muster up the energy to change the station. Sometimes she missed having an AI on hand to change her music, but that was the price she had to pay for moving out of the Tower.

When the doorbell rang, she almost didn’t get up.

It rang again and she made a face. It was probably the FedEx guy getting soaked out there; the faster she went and signed for her package, the faster she could return to her contemplation.

She put her mug down and hurried to the door, not bothering to check the peephole before it throwing it open. Her friendly greeting died on her lips as she came face to face with Bucky Barnes.

For a second, it took all she had to not fling her arms around him. After it passed, reality reinserted itself into her life. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked. She considered shutting the door in his face, but then he gave her that hopeful look, the one she could never resist. “It’s really wet out here.” As if to illustrate his point, a droplet of rain wandered down his face to splash on one of his hunched shoulders. She really had to get that leak on the porch fixed, but she hadn’t had the motivation.

Darcy sighed and stepped out of the way to open the door wider. “Fine.”

He brightened, took the opportunity to look around as he slipped off his coat. “You got a nice place here.”

Darcy didn’t answer, simply pointed him towards the lounge and grabbed a couple of old towels from the linen closet to mop up after him. She may have chucked one at him a bit harder than necessary, but he caught it easily and used it to dry off. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled by the terrycloth.

She crossed the room to retrieve her mug, took a sip to calm her nerves. “Six months?” she asked, once she was sure her voice was under control.

Bucky emerged from the towel, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Seriously? Is that all you have to say?”

“If it helps, it’s been a long six months.”

“And whose fault is that? Bucky, there was that whole thing with the UN and Siberia and you just left! Kaput!”

“Yeah, about that… that Zemo guy screwed with my head. Lost myself for a while. I had to take some time out, some time to think about what I want.”

Darcy raised a single eyebrow when he tailed off. “And? What do you want?”

“You, I want you.”

“You had me, you idiot. Right until you left! We were going steady and everything.”

“Not just that, doll. I want you for worse or for better, in sickness or in health…”

As the words registered, her mouth dropped open. “Bucky, are you proposing?”

He nodded. “Well, I was gonna. Had the ring picked out and everything, then that whole situation in Europe blew up and I knew I couldn’t make you give up everything to go on the run with me.”

“But I would’ve! Not that you had to: I know Tony overreacts a lot, but he always cools down pretty quick.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that. Now I do, and we’ve worked things out, and I’m back if you’ll have me.”

Darcy’s lip wobbled. “I don’t know, Buck. You hurt me.”

Bucky took the mug from her unresisting fingers and put it aside before drawing her into a hug. “I know, and I’m sorry. But before then, it was pretty good, yeah? Remember when we went to Disneyland?”

“And your arm set off the metal detector? The poor security guards were so confused.” Darcy laughed wetly into his shirt. “Or when we went on a Broadway binge? 13 different shows in 13 days.”

“I still maintain we could’ve seen Phantom again,” he replied seriously. “It would’ve kept our streak going.”

“That would’ve been cheating,” she muttered.

“What about when we stayed up to watch the sunrise on New Year’s Day? I still have that photo.”

“So do I,” she admitted. “I look terrible.”

“No, you looked beautiful. You always do.” His voice softened. “I know it’s going to take time, but I’m willing to wait. Forever and ever, it that’s what you need. I love you, Darcy. Just let me show you.”

Back in his arms, she couldn’t muster up the anger that fueled her move from the Tower. Truth be told, it had dwindled to sadness months ago. Now, she was tired of being sad. “Okay,” she murmured.

He froze. “Excuse me?”

“I said okay, okay? We can try this again. But I’m not moving back into the Tower, I like it here. Even if I have to change my own music.”

“That’s fine,” he said, drawing her even closer. “I don’t think Tony wants me there anyway.”

_Three months later_

Sunlight beamed through the windows as Darcy saved and submitted her thesis. The smell of chocolate filtered through the house and she inhaled deeply. “It’s done!” she called.

“So are these,” Bucky replied, appearing in the doorway to the lounge, plate in hand. “I bring celebratory brownie for the conquering doctoral student.”

“I haven’t got it yet,” Darcy demurred.

“No, but you will, that’s how it works.”

She took the proffered brownie and bit into it, savouring the rich, fudgy taste. On her second bite, she encountered something hard. “What the-” She pulled it out, noting the round shape and metallic shine where it wasn’t coated in brownie. “Is this what I think it is?”

Bucky smiled sheepishly. “Yes and no?” He dropped to one knee and took her hand. “Darcy Lewis, I musta lost my mind when I left you all alone. You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure to return the favour. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Heart in her mouth and brownie temporarily abandoned, Darcy nodded, then glanced down at the brownie encrusted ring. “Is this—”

Grinning, Bucky shook his head and pulled a box from his pocket. “Nah, that was just the decoy.” He slipped the slim band onto her finger and swept her into a dance around the lounge to some cheerful song playing from her laptop.

“I can’t dance,” she protested, laughing.

“Neither can I, but it’s all in the partner,” he informed her seriously. “And mine’s the best.”

She looked into his eyes. “No, mine is.”

The dance was forgotten as Bucky dipped his fiancée and kissed her soundly.


	15. How’s unemployment?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 26 - Darcy/double agent!Rumlow for @ibelieveinturtles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/168959114870/happy-birthday-ibelieveinturtles) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12887589/chapters/29804967)

Darcy liked the desert. She liked the dry heat, the wide open expanse, the amazing stargazing without light pollution from any nearby cities.

She was less fond of it as the location for the underground base in which she was being held prisoner.

They never mentioned the word prisoner, of course. Officially, it was protective custody in an undisclosed location, only she’d lost her phone within hours of arrival and her laptop had gone on the blink soon after. The shiny new replacement they gave her had trouble connecting to the internet, especially social media. She was escorted everywhere by a private guard, unable to leave the base ‘for her own safety’.

In short: prisoner.

It wasn’t all bad. The food was decent, she was allowed to use the swimming pool, and Netflix was one of the websites that worked okay, though she had no doubt her usage was monitored. Boo-hoo, so they knew she binged on Disney movies. Big deal.

It was a few weeks into her captivity that she was called into a meeting with the head of operations at the base, an oily little man who couldn’t keep his eyes above her shoulders. He was nattering on about threats and debriefing and really, she zoned out a bit. When he finally shut up, it must have been with some sort of question, for he mistook her silence for obstruction.

“Come now, Ms Lewis. Surely we understand each other?”

“Nope.” It was nothing more than the truth.

“Cooperation will be rewarded, if you get my meaning.”

“I really don’t.”

“I want to get this matter sorted with a minimum of fuss and bother.”

“Of course.”

He began to get more flustered, throwing half-threats and implicatures around without actually explaining what he wanted. Darcy might have asked for clarification, only she was enjoying sending him into a conniption fit. Served him right for staring at her chest.

Finally, he slammed his hands on the desk. “I think we’re done here. Oliver, send Ms Lewis back to her room. Ms Lewis, I recommend you rethink this overnight. We don’t want this to get unpleasant, do we?” He finally met her gaze, a little smirk on his smug face that she itched to slap off. Unable to think up an appropriate comeback, she raised her eyebrows and stood.

The next day, she got to the meeting room first. Oliver stood against the wall, watching her fiddle and jiggle and generally deal terribly with her boredom. Bereft of her phone, she began to sing that song under her breath, the one about the US Presidents that had got her through her Grade 9 History class. She was up to President number eleven (Polk) when the door swung open.

Her first thought was  _yum_ , closely followed by  _he looks familiar_  and  _oh no_.

Brock Rumlow strode in and swung the other chair in the room around to sit with his arms on the backrest. “Get out,” he barked at Oliver, and the poor guy jumped about three feet in the air.

“Yes, sir,” he got out, scuttling from the room.

Rumlow eyed her from across the table. “So, you’re trouble.”

Darcy beamed and casually slid her hands into her lap where they could shake in private. Somehow, she didn’t think yesterday’s tactics would work on this man. “Please, Trouble’s my mom. Call me Darcy.”

Humour lit those dark eyes and he smirked, an insouciant curl of the lips that the greasy git from before had no hope of emulating. “Right then,  _Darcy._  What’s so special about you?”

“You want the long list or the short version?” She jumped in before he could say anything, letting her mouth bypass her brain because if she stopped, she’d have to think about how this guy went toe-to-toe with  _Captain America_. “I have broken, lost, or run over a total of twelve phones in the last five years, my lipstick choice is directly indexical to my mood, I can pull an A- essay out of an all-nighter without doing the readings, my cat used to sit on my head when I brushed my teeth, I can hula-hoop in high heels, my least favourite bird is the peacock, I suck at origami, my favourite poem is Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I found Waldo in every book they published, and I have successfully gotten lost ten minutes from the house I grew up in.”

He sat back, opened his mouth, then shut it again. Then, “ten minutes drive?”

Darcy grinned, happy to see she’d discombobulated him, at least a little. “Nope, ten minutes walk.”

“That’s quite the list.”

“Oh, and I miss the weather. Rain in particular.” She exhaled, gaze dropping to the table. “But that’s not why you asked, it is?”

“Not particularly. Let me rephrase. What’s so special about an unemployed polisci grad that I’ve been asked to get her out of her cushy captivity, even if it means breaking the cover I’ve spent years building?”

Darcy jerked, stared at him in confusion. “Just what side are you on, mister?”

He glanced at the door, then back at her, his voice low and intense. “Ever heard the name Fury?”

“Uh.”

“Tall, bald, eyepatch and a leather coat?”

“Oh, Mr take-your-pirate-to-work-day! Yeah sure, I — wait. Why does everyone think you’re HYDRA, then?”

“Deep cover, way above the clearance of anyone you know.”

“Dude, Thor and I are totes besties. He named me a daughter of Asgard and everything.”

“That would explain it,” Rumlow muttered. “Prince Thor is foreign royalty. His clearance in an American security agency — or what’s left of it — isn’t as high as you might think.”

“Suure.” She let the word drag into several syllables, doubt in every one. “So what happens now?”

“Got anything in your room you can’t live without?”

“Not since they stole my phone. Wait, you want to go now?”

“No time like the present, sweetheart. Pretend to look scared.” He stood, shoving his chair over with a crash. When she joined him by the door, he grabbed her arm and hauled her through — not hard enough to hurt, though it sure looked that way.

“Dismissed,” Rumlow snapped at Oliver as they passed. Darcy kept her head down, letting her hair hide her face as she concentrated on keeping up. Damn, she should’ve gone to the gym when she had the chance.

They made it all the way to the garage uninterrupted, mostly due to Rumlow glaring at anyone who dared approach them. Once inside, he let go of her to fiddle with the control panel by the main door. It slid open with a soft susurration of sound that was quickly drowned out by blaring alarms. Rumlow cursed and tossed a helmet at her, kickstarting a sleek black motorbike as she fitted it over her head.

“Come on,” he ordered. No sooner had she fitted herself around him than he accelerated through the open doors and up the ramp. Effervescent joy bubbled through her blood as he put on another burst of speed, winding his way through the desert. From behind them, there was a muffled explosion, but no sign of pursuit. Even so, they drove for some time, until Rumlow brought the motorbike to a halt beside a nondescript hill.

“Why’d we stop?” she asked, her arms still locked around his midsection.

“Got a quinjet pickup lined up.”

He pulled off his helmet; reluctantly, Darcy let go of him to do the same. In the next moment, the heavens opened, drenching them both. Rumlow scowled until he caught sight of Darcy’s face, wet hair plastered to her skull. “What is it?”

“I love this smell,” she whispered. “I hadn’t realised how sterile that place smelled until we got out.”

“Petrichor,” Brock said, surprising both of them. “The smell? It’s called petrichor.”

“Petrichor,” she rolled the word around in her mouth, testing its edges and vowels. “I like it. Petrichor.” She pushed her hair out of her face to look at him. “So that’s one unemployed polisci grad rescued. What’s next for you?”

“Dunno. Not sure if Fury has a use for a double agent whose cover has been well and truly blown.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “How’s unemployment?”

Darcy smiled. “Not great recently, but it’s looking up. Besides, the company’s great.”

Side by side, they waited for their ride.


	16. Pockets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 7 - Fluffy (just the teensiest bit cracky) Bucky/Darcy fic for @queenoffrizz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/169436701415/happy-birthday-queenoffrizz) and [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13258506/chapters/30443862)

“I found you a date for Stark’s thingamajig!”

Bucky scowled at his best friend. “Why do I have to go to that? I hate being on show.”

“We all hate it,” Steve reminded him. “That’s why we drew straws. You and Banner lost, and he went to the last one. Ergo, you get to go to this one!”

“Ergo?  _Ergo?_ Do the others realise you only use fancy words when you’re being a little - oof!”

“Now, Buck, mind your manners in front of the lady. Bucky Barnes, this is Darcy Lewis. Miss Lewis, this is my sorry excuse for a best friend and I understand if you want to give this up as a lost cause.”

Bucky gave up rubbing at his bruised side - serum or not, Steve still had sharp elbows - to gape at the wonder that had just entered the common room. With loose waves of brown hair and some floral scent he couldn’t quite identify, she barely came up to his chin. “Ma’am.”

She laughed and ducked her her head, eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Aw, don’t go all formal on me! You’re like the only person I’m going to know at this thing except Tony and Pepper so you better call me Darcy.”

“Alright, uh, Darcy, then you gotta call me Bucky. You go to these events often?”

“Nope, so Pepper’s letting me charge hair and makeup to her credit card and I think I’m going to take advantage and get a trim while I’m at it, what about you?”

“My hair?” Suddenly self-conscious, he ran one hand through his hair. He hadn’t thought about it much beyond keeping it out of his eyes, though a long distant memory informed him it used to be important. “What do you think?”

“I was wondering if you go to Tony’s parties a lot, but yeah, you’d look good with short hair. There’s a bunch of barbers around, I’m sure you could get it done in time. Listen, do you prefer regular or bowties?”

“I... honestly have don’t know. Don’t know if I’ve ever owned a tie, either. Do I need to get one?”

Darcy flashed a smile. “Nah, I’ll get you one that matches my dress. Always wanted to do that but the guy who asked me to prom said he wanted to wear a Hawaiian shirt so I went stag. Anyways, the party stays at 8 so how about you pick me up at 6 and we’ll go for dinner first, yeah? There’s this great Vietnamese place I haven’t been to in ages. Sound alright?”

He had time to stutter out an “okay,” before she vanished into the stairwell, leaving him to stare after her, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Party looking a bit more palatable now?” Steve asked, grinning.

 “Shut up,” muttered Bucky, glaring daggers.

* * *

“Good going Darce, just babble at the guy, that’s sure to go down well. Probably trying to get out of the party right now…”

Darcy’s monologue trailed off as she reached the right floor and pushed the door open. Jane looked up at her entrance, confused. “Is something wrong with the elevators?”

“What? Oh, no, I figured I needed some exercise if I was going to be wearing a slinky dress next to Hottie McMurderthighs.”

Jane scowled. “Darcy, no! I’d kill for curves like yours. If you ask me, he’s the one who needs to make an effort, or he’ll be outclassed.”

“You have to say that, you’re my friend,” Darcy pointed out. “But he’s Captain America’s best friend and like, a war hero. Probably has models throwing themselves at him on a daily basis.”

“Steve’s the one who asked you to do this, remember? He’s like  _the_  war hero and you’re fine with him. Why are you stressing out? Unless -” Jane’s eyes went wide. “Unless you like him! You do, you have a crush on Bucky Barnes!”

“Shut up,” muttered Darcy, her cheeks flaming.

* * *

The rap on the door startled Darcy. She’d been ready since 5:30, had spent the minutes since then pacing and reassessing her choices. She’d swapped her dream of a slinky dress for one with a fuller skirt and was wearing her favourite heels because no-one would be able to see them under her full-length gown. “No backing out now,” she muttered to herself. “Game face on.” She checked her lipstick one more time and opened the door.

* * *

Bucky tried not to gape. Really.

“Wow,” he managed. “You look amazing.”

A smile blossomed across Darcy’s face. “You like it?”

“It looks good on you,” he said. “Really good.”

“Ang guess what, it has pockets! Oh, this is for you.” She reached into one and pulled out a tie that matched the deep red of her dress. “You know how to tie this?”

“Uh…”

He ducked his head to let her loop the tie around his neck. Head bowed in concentration, she knotted it into place, the floral scent of her shampoo teasing his senses. He’d been wrong, she was a little taller than his chin - or maybe she was wearing heels. Either way, she was the perfect height to -

“All done!” she chirped, patting him on the chest as she stepped back. “You ready to go eat? I’m starving. I wanted to grab a snack earlier but I was scared I’d smudge my lipstick.”

She pulled her front door shut and tucked her arm through his, keeping a running commentary all the way. “The haircut looks great, by the way! Not that it wasn’t okay earlier, but I like this one better.”

They walked a few short blocks to the restaurant and Bucky let Darcy’s chatter wash over him and soothe his nerves. He’d never tried Vietnamese food before, so when they arrived, he sat back and let her order for the two of them. He liked her confidence and her willingness to try new things, the way she asked his opinion but didn’t rely on his help.

The food was great but even better than the delicate flavours and the crisp vegetables were the little glances she snuck at him from across the table. The flow of conversation slowed and came to a stop. “Am I talking too much?” Darcy demanded.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I like the way you talk.”

She brightened. “Oh, okay then.”

Stark’s party was hosted in a nearby hotel and Darcy insisted she would be okay to walk there. “These are my favourite heels, I’m fine! Look, all the taxis are busy at this time of night.”

One block from the restaurant, Bucky noticed her shivering. “Are you cold?”

Darcy shook her head.

“Your teeth are chattering,” he pointed out. “Take my jacket, at least for the walk.” When she hesitated, he added, “I run hot”.

“Fine,” she sighed.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it out for her to slip her arms into. “It’s kinda big,” she observed, looking down at where the sleeves went past her hands. Before he could formulate a reply, she looked up at him and grinned. “I like it.” Pushing one sleeve up, she grabbed his hand - his metal hand - and tugged him along the sidewalk. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being fashionably late?”

“There’s fashionably late, and there’s us. They’ll probably lock the doors.”

“Great, then we can skip the party.”

“Tony will be mad and you know it.”

He nodded, resigned. “Fine.”

Soon enough, and yet all too soon, they arrived at the media press outside the hotel. Darcy slipped out of his jacket reluctantly and handed it back to him. “Time to face the music,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her. He saw the surprise and delight in her face and felt it solidify his resolve. “Just one thing before we go in.”

“Yeah?”

He kissed her, cradled her face in one hand as her arms came up to twine around his neck.

“Been wanting to do that all night,” he admitted. “Sorry I kinda smudged your lipstick.”

“You’re so lucky this dress has pockets. But even if it didn’t…” Darcy looked up from her reapplication and winked. “Still worth it.”


	17. I brought me cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 14 - Maria Hill/Sam Wilson fic, perhaps involving post-mission pampering for awriter314

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/171885692980/happy-birthday-awriter314) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862013/chapters/32180475)

“Alright, I think we’re done here.”

At Steve’s words, Sam folded his wings and dove towards the quinjet, timing his landing to send a spray of gravel into Barnes’ face.

“Dammit, Wilson,” the other man grumbled, but Sam wasn’t listening.

“Maria, hey.”

Maria looked up and smiled. “Sam! Nice flying out there.”

“You weren’t looking too bad yourself. Have you been training with Nat?”

“A little. I definitely need it, she’s still a lot better than me at hand-to-hand.”

“I doubt it,” Sam scoffed.

“Can we save the mush for when I don’t have to watch?”

Sam flicked the bird at Barnes as he followed Maria into the quinjet.

* * *

Steve used the flight home to debrief so the post-mission adrenalin high was already fading by the time they touched down at the facility in upstate New York. Maria wasn’t big on shows of physical affection, but she was listing against Sam’s shoulder as the engines powered down and the ramp opened.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” He brushed her hair out of her face and affection turned to concern. “You’re hurt!”

Maria frowned, wincing when the movement pulled at the cut on her forehead and the rapidly swelling lump underneath. “Damn merc got a lucky hit.” She scowled as he went to thread an arm around her waist and help her up. “Don’t you dare. It’s only a scratch.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve had worse. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Are you quoting at me?”

Sam assumed an innocent expression. “Who, me? No, I’m distracting you. Look, we’re at the lift. Your place or mine?”

“I have no idea,” Maria replied dryly, as he directed the lift to their shared apartment. “But you’re still wearing your wingpack.”

“What? Oh, uh…”

“Go and drop it off at the tech room, I can get myself settled.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She whacked him gently on the shoulder at his salute. “Idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

* * *

Sam’s detour took long enough that she had time enough to shower and get dressed in her favourite nightwear before he got back.

“Sorry, Stark thought of a way to streamline the wings and couldn’t wait to tell me. We need to get Pepper back from the Board Meeting before he redesigns everything. I also dropped by the kitchen and got us -” his gaze narrowed in on her clothes. “Are those avocados?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I like these pajamas.”

“I’m not complaining. How come I haven’t seen them before?”

“It was too hot to wear them. I only just figured out the thermostats at this place.”

Sam laughed, one hand going over his pecs in a move he must’ve picked up from Steve. The action drew her eyes to the container in his other hand.

“Did you bring me cookies?”

“No, I brought me cookies.” Sam paused. “I am willing to share for half share of the bed.”

Maria pretended to consider it, then obligingly moved over, her gaze fixed on the cookies. “You’ll clean up first, of course. You can leave the cookies here.”

With a show of great reluctance, he passed the container over. “I’ll be quick. Don’t eat them all without me, now.”

She waved him away. “Take your time, it’s fine.”

When he got back, it was to find his girlfriend asleep, cookie still in hand. He removed the container from the pillow beside her, putting it on the bedside table. Weighing up the benefits of waking her, he decided to join her instead. He had to eat the cookie, though. No point in wasting it.


	18. I'm a big fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 25 - Matt Murdock/Natasha Romanoff. I'm thinking that they've been secretly seeing each other for a while, and at some event (after a battle team up with the Defenders & Avengers, or some event where they'd all be together) their respective teams find out somehow. I'll leave the rest up to you for mattmurdocksgirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/172231617290/happy-birthday-mattmurdocksgirl) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862013/chapters/32460639)

They were fighting the latest eldritch abominations that had escaped onto Broadway when a roar split the air.

“What was that?” Danny asked, as the tourists all turned their phones to capture the latest excitement.

“I think it's the Hulk?

It's all the Avengers,” Matt corrected, as a vaguely human shape toppled over, an arrow in the vague area of its throat. “Hawkeye is up there, Iron Man is one avenue out east, Cap is south of our position with the Black Widow.”

“Hawkeye, Iron Man, even Cap I get with the giant frisbee. But how did you recognise Black Widow?”

Matt paused. “Uh. I'm a big fan.”

Jessica laughed, actually laughed, in delight. “No way. I never took you for a fanboy.”

“Can we focus here?”

“I can multitask.” She punched the next abomination with such enthusiasm, it soared past three tourists and exploded on impact, covering a living statue in grey goop. “Does your new girlfriend know about your little crush?”

“What new girlfriend?”

“Dude. I’m a private investigator. Just because you somehow manage to give me the slip doesn’t mean I don’t notice you sneaking off.”

“You’re not as good at sneaking as you think you are. And yes, she does know.” Before Jessica could grill him some more, he let the tide of battle sweep him away from her. If his new location allowed him to ‘watch’ the back of a certain red-headed Avenger, well, that was just being a good neighbour.

* * *

Once the eldritch abominations had been dispatched back to their home dimensions, the two teams met up in the middle of Times Square. Iron Man had barely landed when Jessica took it upon herself to do the introductions, with an enjoyment that was more unsettling than the abominations had been.

“...and this is Daredevil. He’s a big fan. Mostly of the Black Widow.”

“Oh, really?”

Matt could hear the smirk in Tasha’s voice.

“Absolutely,” he replied, straight-faced.

“I’m flattered. Always nice to meet a fan.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Hawkeye, who was perched on some overturned bleachers nearby, followed by a sigh. “Not my business,” he muttered, inaudible to mostly everyone, save Matt’s enhanced hearing.

From the way Captain America frowned, he heard it too, and Matt could almost hear the gears ticking over in his head.

Knowing the other man would soon put two and two together, Matt angled himself towards Tasha, cocked his head in the slightest approximation of a question. After a heartbeat, she responded with a tiny shrug.

“So, do you come here often?” he asked, with exaggerated casualness. “I hear there’s a bumper crop of Tony nominees if you’re in the mood for a musical.”

Most of their teams laughed, though Jessica gave him what he was sure was a suspicious stare.

“You do know that Black Widows eat their mates, right?” Iron Man quipped. “And you’re not even a little bit nervous?”

“Good thing they call me the man without fear.”

Even Jessica groaned at that.

Ignoring her, Matt stepped forward and offered Tasha his arm. “Would you like to go for coffee? All of this fighting has made me hungry.”

“I’d love to,” she replied, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “You boys can take care of the cleanup.”

As both their teams stared in surprise, they sauntered away. As soon as the crowd closed around them, they sped up to avoid the inevitable questions. Thankfully, the tourists had already begun to lose interest and were busy taking photos of the destruction. Matt could hear Jessica swearing up a blue streak in realisation behind them, and he grinned.

“Did you really want coffee?” he asked, when they paused at an intersection, several blocks away.

“The weirdlings interrupted my dinner, so I’d rather something more.”

“Pizza?”

Tasha lit up. “Sounds perfect. I - Are you going to wear the suit to dinner?”

“I have a feeling we’re going to get tracked down if we stay in public. Probably best to go somewhere quiet.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Meet you at my place? I’ll order the pizza if you bring the wine.”

“I thought you preferred vodka? I’ve got a bottle in my freezer.”

“I knew I liked you.”

* * *

No-one took a second look at the couple kissing on the corner. One guy in a weird suit looks much like another, and there are at least three women dressed as the Black Widow around Times Square on any given day. If they vanished onto the rooftops a tad faster than might be expected, no-one bothered to hang around long enough to notice.

(Jessica might’ve noticed, but she was on her way to Matt’s apartment with a list of questions and a camera. She also checked his office and three dumpsters before giving up. Not the most satisfying end to the day, but at least she got to punch things.)


	19. Is that normal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 23 - Loki/Wanda, soul-mate/identifying marks AU and everyone around them being heavily surprised for lucdarling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/173248470975/happy-birthday-lucdarling) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179836/chapters/33298011)

_This happens after Civil War and Thor Ragnarok_

Wanda wasn’t at the safe house when Tony rang. She was out at the market, doing her best to ignore Clint’s hovering. She understood his concern - the time on the Raft hadn’t been easy on any of them - but he forgot that her life hadn’t been easy for a long time. Even before the Accords, many viewed her with fear or suspicion, and Tony had never forgiven her for screwing with his head before Ultron.

Hell, she’s never forgiven herself.

Which made it all the more surprising that he had requested her presence at this meeting.

“Why do you think he wants me there?” she asked Steve, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You’re an Avenger, Wanda. You’re one of us.”

Privately, she worried Tony was going to take the opportunity to lock her up again, but if that was what it takes for her to pay for her mistakes, she’d take it. She wouldn't fight it, though her powers had grown exponentially in their time on the run.

The timbre of the engines shifted and Wanda glanced out the plane window to see the Avengers Complex below. It had once been her home, and later her prison. She wondered how they'd fixed the hole Vision had made in the floor and if they still had paprika in the kitchen.

Tony stood waiting for them, sharply dressed and looking every inch the billionaire. Rhodey stood at his side wearing half the War Machine suit, and Vision was on Tony's other side. With them were a group she didn’t recognise, headed by - “is that Thor?”

“He’s cut his hair,” Nat noted. “And he’s wearing an eyepatch.”

“Must be a family thing,” Clint added, then stiffened, and Wanda could feel his anger. “Son of a-”

“What is he doing here?” Natasha demanded.

“Thor must know what he's doing,” Steve said, but he didn't sound sure.

Scott joined them at the windows. “Who are you talking about?”

“Loki,” Clint replied through gritted teeth.

Wanda stared in fascination as the figure beside Thor came into focus. Dark and lean, he looked every part the dangerous trickster Clint had talked about, even with his hands cuffed in front of him and boredom written across his face.

“That must be why Tony needs you,” Steve realised.

“Great,” Wanda murmured, still transfixed.

* * *

Introductions were understandably strained - after all, the last time they had all been face to face, it had been back at the airport in Germany and had ended with half of them in a high-security prison. Wanda hung back until Tony mentioned her by name.

“Where's Wanda? I thought you said she would be with you.”

“I'm here,” she said, as Clint and Bucky stepped aside to let her through.

“Oh good,” Tony said, looking visibly relieved. “We need you to read this guy and tell us if he can be trusted. Not that you're not trustworthy, Thor, but you have to admit you're biased.”

Thor inclined his head in agreement but Wanda wasn't watching; she was already moving forward, towards Loki. Here on the ground, there was an almost magnetic pull towards him, she was surprised the others gave him such a wide berth. With the height difference, she had to reach up, power gathering around her raised hand. A spark of interest lit Loki’s eyes and she braced herself for the contact, for the familiar shock of someone else’s mind.

She was not prepared for the electric spark as her fingertips brushed across his temple, nor the dark tattoo-like mark that spread from the point of contact across the side of his face. Loki must have felt it too, for he stumbled backwards, eyed wide with shock.

“Who are you?” he demanded, voice low and intense. “What did you do to me?”

Wanda felt her jaw drop, felt the impact of his words like a punch to the gut. They ran up her leg in a beautiful ornate script; had been there as long as she could remember. Pietro had always teased her about the circumstances they hinted at but with the turmoil of the last few years, she hadn’t given them much thought.

“Is that normal?” Scott asked of no-one in particular.

“That is a soulmark,” Thor informed them, single eye wide. “Much like Midgardian words, but they only appear when two halves of the same soul come into contact for the first time. ”

“So Loki… and Wanda?”

“It can’t be,” Clint spluttered. “He’s evil, and she’s…”

“Not evil,” Wanda corrected, trying to parse what she had read in that first shock of connection. “Simply hurt, confused, and unwise in his previous choice of allegiance, most of which was rooted in fear.” She flicked a glance up at Clint. “Sound familiar?”

“I don't like it,” he muttered.

You don't have to like it. I'm no child. I haven't been one in a long time. You know that.”

“This certainly simplifies things,” Rhodey said cheerfully, ushering people towards the doors. “How about we give them some space now?”

Wanda could feel his awkward discomfort, but a small part of her appreciated the show of support. The rest of her was focused on the man in front of her. She could feel his power, dark and cool against the wild magic that pulsed within her skin.

‘You are a sorceress,” Loki said. “And my soulmate?”

Wanda nodded. “My name is Wanda, though some call me the Scarlet Witch.”

Thor let out a bellow of laughter and clapped Loki on the shoulder. “She sounds like a true match for you, brother.”

A small smile flickered on Loki's lips. “So it would seem.” The smile dropped away. “Though honour insists I give you the chance to walk away.”

“What? Why would I do that?” She thought of the wonders he must have seen. “You do not want me?”

“You are the loveliest being in the Nine Realms and I would make you my queen, had I still a kingdom. But you have seen my thoughts, have you not? The destruction I have waged?”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying Stark has not discussed me or my mistakes? I have plenty of destruction to my name.”

Look shook his head earnestly. “You do not understand -”

“Oh, shut up,” Wanda said and hauled his head down to kiss him.


	20. You've got a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 10 - Wintershock crack, please! for piccalily0510

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/173776600120/happy-birthday-piccalily0510) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14529231/chapters/33755931)

The phone on the table buzzed with an incoming message. Then again. And again.

"Are you going to get that?" Jane asked, not looking up from the article on her tablet.

Darcy sighed. “It'll be my mom. A couple of girls I went to high school with recently got married and now she's on my case. Can't wait for me to meet a nice Jewish boy and move on home to Pennsylvania.”

She picked up her phone to read the new messages out loud. “Why don't you ever call us? I feel like you don't want us to know what is going on in your life. For all we know you could be engaged.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “Haha, funny story…” she typed in, reading it out as she did.

Almost immediately, her phone buzzed again and again in quick succession. Darcy snickered. “I think she's forgotten she can call me.” The buzzing turned continuous and she answered the call. “Hey dad,” she said brightly,  ignoring Jane cracking up at the other end of the couch.“Well, it's all happened so quickly. We haven't set a date yet.”  _Because there isn't going to be a wedding_  she finished silently. “Can we talk later? I’ve gotta go. Love you too, bye!”

“They really bought it?” Jane gasped between laughs, as soon as Darcy hung up.

“Hook, line, and sinker. All I need are some engagement photos with someone unsuitable and we’re good to go. Maybe that’ll teach mom to stay out of my love life.”

She looked up, catching the eye of the only person in the room who wasn't pretending not to listen in. “Hey Barnes, you want to get married?”

* * *

Bucky didn’t know why he was even considering it. Sure, the little drama on the other side of the room had been funny, but “what do I get out of it?”

“Apart from a hot fiancee?” Darcy wrinkled her nose in thought. “Your choice of baking twice weekly for a month or as long as we keep this up, with bonus apple pie if you can convince mom to stop harassing me to get married.”

He made a show of thinking about it. “Not a huge fan of apple pie.”

“Your choice of bonus pie, then. Also, I can teach you how to reprogramme the elevator music in the Tower and I will laugh at all your jokes for the duration.”

“Make it plum strudel and you have a deal.”

Darcy grinned and Bucky had the sinking realisation that his days of peace at the Tower might be at an end.

* * *

“Okay, you need to hold me.”

“I am holding you.”

“Yes, at arm’s length. I am naturally snuggly, Barnes, no-one will buy this if Thor could fit between us. If this a deal-breaker for you, say something now because I still have time to talk to Clint.”

He thought of the strudel. “I can do this. But you gotta stop calling me Barnes.”

“Okay, Bucky it is, unless we can come up with a better nickname. How about this?” She fitted herself under his chin and looked up at him adoringly. She was already sporting a ring Pepper had lent them, named “the noodle incident ring” for reasons she was unwilling to discuss but probably involved Tony blowing something up.

“Not quite,” Jane said, having volunteered as photographer. “Move your hand, otherwise Darcy’s parents are going to be expecting a whole other announcement.”

Bucky quickly removed his hand from Darcy’s stomach and slipped it around her waist.

“That’s great, hold that pose.”

When Jane finally pronounced herself satisfied with the photos, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. Right until Darcy said, “okay, now we need to get the couple photos.”

“Didn’t we just take those?”

“No, those were the engagement photos. We need photos of us as a couple so it looks like we’ve been together for longer than -” she checked her phone “an hour and a half.”

“You should change your clothes,” Jane suggested. Bucky sighed.

* * *

Bucky was still recovering from the marathon photo taking session when Darcy pounded on his door in a panic.

“Darcy? What’s wrong?”

“My parents are coming!”

“What? Here?”

“Mom just messaged, they’re on their way!”

“Because of the engagement?”

“No, they felt like seeing Hamilton on Broadway YES the engagement. Should we move in together?”

“Don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”

Darcy fixed him with a steely glare. “Are you questioning my commitment?”

“...No?”

The steel vanished and was replaced with a smile so bright, it left him breathless. “Awesome. We can tell them you’re old-fashioned. After all, you are from the 40s. You still eat aniseed balls and listen to the radio.”

“You’ve noticed that?”

A rosy flush spread up Darcy’s neck. “Uh, sure. I like to keep track of what people eat.”

At that moment, it occurred to him that by the wording of their agreement he could assure himself a lifetime supply of baking by never breaking up with Darcy. He found he rather liked the idea. Mostly of Darcy, if he was being honest with himself.

“Alright,” he said, with newfound conviction. “Do we need to practice kissing?”

Darcy choked.


	21. A Match Made in Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 17 - Captain America/Lady Sif}, something fluffy maybe with "May I have this dance?" for willowodair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/174011465730/happy-birthday-willowodair) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14529231/chapters/33953844)

The Lady Sif was beautiful, deadly, and feared among all Asgardians for her fighting prowess. She was the boon companion of both Prince Thor and the Warriors Three, was a regular at the rowdiest of feasts and banquets.

She most certainly not moping alone on the side of a Midgardian dance floor.

It was not the fault of Midgardian men that they were so small and fragile. She had not meant to knock her partner out with an overenthusiastic elbow, but she had been sadly bereft of partners ever since. Though there was some consolation in her flagon of ale, it was weaker than she preferred. A new song started playing and she took a long pull of her drink.

“Excuse me,” came a voice at her elbow. “May I have this dance?”

She lowered her flagon to see Captain Rogers, the friend of the Prince, offering his hand towards her.

“Are you sure?” she asked skeptically. It was kind of him, for sure, but she had no desire to be an object of pity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman here,” Rogers said honestly. “It would be a shame for you to spend the evening alone.” His smile faded. “Unless you would prefer it that way?”

Sif shook her head. “Nay, if your offer was made in good faith then I am pleased to accept it.”

The smile returned in full force as she placed her hand in his and he pulled her towards the dance floor.

“I must admit I am not familiar with many Midgardian dances, Captain Rogers.”

“Oh, it’s all about the partner,” he assured her. “And it’s Steve.”

“Steve, then. Thank you.”

He positioned one of her hands on his shoulder and placed his on her waist. It was not often that Sif felt small, outside of her own circle, but she felt positively dainty as Steve guided her steps. She found herself smiling as the odd movements began to feel natural.

”You have done much dancing?”

“Never used to, but everyone here expected me to be a pro so I watched a few videos. It’s amazing what you can find on YouTube.”

“This YouTube, what is it? I have heard Thor speak of the cats there, but I must confess I do not understand.”

“It’s… it’s a video archive. People post videos of themselves or of things they enjoy.” Steve smiled crookedly. “Don’t let the others know I know about YouTube. They all think I have trouble with Google.”

“Google?”

 “...nevermind.”

Steve paused to spin her. “If you like, I can show you. I know a few cat videos - or if you don’t like cats, there’s a heap of other stuff there. Music, films, cars - do you even have cats on Asgard?”

He expected her to laugh at him, but she merely smiled. “We do have cats, though I understand ours are larger. My brother’s is not yet up to his shoulder.”

“To - that’s quite big.”

Sif shrugged. “She is but a kitten and it has been many moons since I have last seen her. I think I would enjoy these cat videos. Can we see them now?”

The song neared its end and Steve offered his arm to Sif with a flourish. “It would be my honour to show you. There’s a woman who rescues stray cats and a couple of them have had kittens…”

* * *

Tony wandered into the lounge, sunglasses perched on his face. “I’m sure she’ll be around here somewhere.”

Thor followed him. “I hope so. It is unlike Sif to be tardy. Aha! There she -”

“Sshhhh,” Tony hissed. “She’s asleep on the Capsicle.”

The couple on the couch didn’t stir as Thor and Tony came closer. The tablet in front of them still livestreamed sleeping kittens.

“Ah,” Thor said. “Steven has introduced Sif to Midgardian cats.”

Tony looked between the two of them gleefully, noting Sif’s head on Steve’s shoulder and their interlocking fingers. “It’s like a match made in heaven!”

Thor frowned. “But this is Midgard!”


	22. Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 19 - "You and I would have really attractive children." for Valkyrie/Bucky? Maybe with some risqué fluff? for theonewithwaytoomanyfandoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/174064128580/happy-birthday-theonewithwaytoomanyfandoms) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14529231/chapters/33992780)

Bucky took a long swig of his drink, relishing the burn as it rolled down his throat. He’d never had the money for expensive liquor, back in the day, but Tony’s stash was the only stuff that had a chance at getting him drunk.

He reached for the bottle to top up his glass, only to find it snatched out of his grasp. “Hey!” he scowled. “Give that back.”

The brunette, the one who’d arrived with Thor, shook her head. “This is mine now.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you up here by yourself? I thought Stark disapproved of people drinking alone.”

“They give me some leeway. Why are you here, if not to drink alone?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? So I’m not drinking alone.” She capped off her irrefutable logic with a swig from her stolen bottle.

He repressed a smile. “How can we be drinking together if I don’t know your name?”

“Brunnhilde, formerly of Asgard.”

“Alright, pleased to meetcha, Brunnhilde. I’m Bucky. Of Brooklyn, I suppose, though Stark’s been pretty good at putting us all up here.”

“Is this accommodation typical of Midgard?”

Bucky laughed. “Hell, no. These are the flashest digs I’ve ever seen, and that’s before you include the smart tv that’s bigger than the apartment I grew up in.”

She peered in the direction he indicated. “Why is there a moustache on that screen?”

“I think it was a game Stark was playing,” Bucky told her. “You watch a movie and take a drink when someone on screen has the moustache on.”

Brunnhilde lit up. “I like that.”

“You wanna pick something to watch?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.”

Bucky turned the tv on, flicked through the choices, and picked one at random. Something light and colourful, one with a few awards. “Grab us a few bottles, would you?”

Grinning, Brunnhilde emptied a shelf of bottles and sprawled beside him on the couch, the bottles between them. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

“What the hell was that?” Bucky stared at the screen. “That was the worst ending ever.” He grabbed for the last bottle, but missed as Brunnhilde moved it out of his grasp. “Gimme that. I do not say this lightly but I need to forget that.”

“What was wrong with it?” she asked, genuinely bemused at his vehemence.

“It needs a happy ending.” He could feel the alcohol buzz fading already.

Brunnhilde screwed up her face. “In my experience, endings aren’t happy. They got what they wanted, isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe. But they don’t end up together! I wanted them to be successful together, not end with her having a kid with another guy. Isn’t that the point of these sorts of stories?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Valkyries aren’t allowed to have children and remain a Valkyrie.”

He went to reply that the kid wasn’t the point, but paused. He’d done a crash course on Norse myth, much like anyone who came into contact with Thor. “You’re a Valkyrie?”

“Once, a long time ago. Not anymore.” She stared moodily down at the bottle she held, then back up at him. A slow smile spread across her face. “You know, you and I would have really attractive children.”

Bucky blinked. “Really?”

By way of answer, she leaned forward to capture his mouth with hers. Though she tasted of the liquor they’d been passing between them, there was nothing hazy about the way she looked at him. He took the bottle from her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist; she threaded her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. It was messy and sweet and when he pulled away, they were both panting.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he answered, “but I’m willing to find out. How about I show you what a happy ending looks like?”

Brunnhilde smiled and reclaimed the bottle, tilting it to catch the last drops as they fell from the rim. “Best idea you’ve had all night.”


	23. Gorgeous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 6 - Bucky/Darcy fic where Darcy is crushing on Bucky and sucks at hiding it. She starts avoiding him and he cuts that out real quick one night in her apartment at the tower. He wants her and he shows her just how much. Non-Civil War complaint. for rvaleardis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/174625393220/happy-birthday-rvaleardis) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825319/chapters/34405899)

Bucky Barnes was being watched.

He was used to the feeling, but this watcher held none of Steve’s worry or Tony’s suspicion. It was more hesitant, less familiar. He lifted his head to look around the room, found his mark in Dr Foster’s assistant, the brunette whose name he couldn’t quite remember. When he met her gaze, she flushed and scowled.

Taken aback, Bucky averted his eyes and added her to the list of people at the Tower who didn’t like him. Sticking a bookmark in the novel Steve had loaned him, he stood and left the common room. 

* * *

Darcy let her head fall to the table with a quiet  _thump_  as soon as the stairwell door shut behind Bucky Barnes. “Oh no.”

“What was that?” Helen asked, one delicate eyebrow raised.

“He’s too good looking,” Darcy explained helplessly. “It makes me mad.”

“...okay.”

“I have the worst taste in guys. If I’m interested, something’s wrong.”

“What about Ian?” Jane asked, looking up from her own eReader. “Ian was nice.”

“Ian was a perfectly nice SHIELD agent, who went to his next assignment 10 hours after we stopped the dark elves in London and left no forwarding address.”

“Oh, yeah.” Wrinkling her nose, Jane returned to her reading.

Helen tapped her pen on the notepad in front of her thoughtfully. “But Barnes is Steve’s friend, he can’t be that bad.”

“It doesn’t matter. He probably thinks I hate him.”

“I’m sure it’s not like that.”

Darcy sighed. “Sure.” 

* * *

“Any idea why Dr Foster’s assistant hates me?”

Steve stared. “Who, Darcy? Why do you think she hates you?”

“ _That’s_ her name. She was glaring at me across the common room yesterday.”

“Maybe she had something in her eye.”

“Maybe she doesn’t approve of me being a free man. Plenty of those around, aren’t there?”

“Darcy’s not like that. She’s a nice girl.”

“Are you trying to set us up? Because as pretty as she is, I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“Hey if you want to think the worst of her, go ahead, but I think you should give her a chance. She makes some swell brownies.”

He thought over what Steve said and had just about convinced himself that he’d imagined the whole thing when he braved the common room for Friday night drinks. He exited the stairwell on the opposite side from the kitchen, was making his way around when he heard his name.

“He talks like one of those ancient movies, y’know? Only none of those guys had a Brooklyn accent thick enough to cut. At least Steve’s had some time to learn some modern slang; it’s like Barnes stepped straight out of a history book.”

“If you did Grade Nine history, he pretty much did.” That was Sam, the traitor.

Bucky stepped around the corner, intending to grab a drink and escape as if he heard nothing. Unfortunately, he found he’d misjudged their proximity and walked right into the middle of their conversation. There was no way he could feign ignorance, so he decided to brazen it out. “You talking ‘bout me?”

Darcy squeaked and coloured, her mouth opening and shutting with nothing coming out. Clutching her wineglass and a rather empty bottle, she turned tail and fled.

“I think that’s a yes,” Sam snickered.

“Great, she really does hate me.”

“Whoa, where’d you get that idea?”

“Didn’t you just hear her making fun of me?”

“Man, lemme tell you that did not sound like hate from where I’m standing. Just between you and me, I think our Darcy has a bit of a crush.”

Bucky stared. “Then why’d she run off?”

“You’d have to talk to her about it. But believe me, if a girl talked about me as much as she talks about you, I’d take it as a compliment. I’ve never seen Darcy tongue-tied around anyone before you arrived.” Sam snorted at the unconvinced look on Bucky’s face. “But what do I know? I’m the one who hasn’t been on a date in 70 years. Nah wait, that’s you.”

Bucky thought about it, trying to cast their past interactions in a different light. There was quite a few of them, he realised, only she’d never said much to him. Or anything, really. Talked a lot to other people, though. Happened to be in the same place as him rather often, though he’d never thought much of that before. He’d even considered asking her out, before that incident in the common room.

“Huh.”

Sam grinned. “Knew it.” 

* * *

He tried to track her down, but somehow never managed to get her alone. There was always someone else for her to talk to, somewhere else she had to be. On three separate occasions, he arrived in time to see her vanish through a different door. He half-suspected her of tracking his movements via Friday, but that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?

“What about the residential floors?” Steve suggested when he vented to his best friend. “Friday doesn’t monitor those for privacy reasons.”

“What, break into her rooms?”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been spending too much time with Barton.” 

* * *

Fresh off a science!bender with Jane, Darcy was only half-awake when someone knocked on her door. Figuring Jane had forgotten something, she fumbled the door open and blinked up at the figure in her doorway.

“Can we talk?” Bucky Barnes asked, blue eyes intense. “Please?”

Throat suddenly dry and face aflame, Darcy considered shutting the door and going to bed, because she was obviously dreaming. Finally, she nodded, standing back and swinging the door open.

Bucky didn’t move. “One question: why were you glaring at me? In the common room, a couple of weeks ago”

“Have you seen your face?”

“My - what?”

Darcy cleared her throat. “Your face. You’re too much and there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

A shadow lifted off Bucky’s face. “Who says you can’t have it?”

“Oh please. You’re gorgeous and I’m me.”

He moved then, crowding into her space and pushing the door shut behind him. Breathless, Darcy moved backwards with him until she hit a wall. “I’m totally dreaming right now, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky assured her. “I’m not really here, about to kiss you senseless.”

Darcy’s knees turned to jelly at his rough promise and she clutched at his shoulders to stay upright. “Oh good,” she managed before he bent his head to hers and did exactly that.


	24. Inappropriate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 13 - continuation of your Feb 5 Clintasha prompt where Phil drops by unexpectedly and encounters a naked Natasha. Shocked, he misreads the situation, tries to explain sexual harassment to Natasha while being angry/disappointed at Clint for "taking advantage". Natasha has to defend Clint and convince Phil he's got it all backward for roseskye13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/174847133045/happy-birthday-roseskye13) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825319/chapters/34562657)

They were recovering from the Longest Briefing Ever when there was a knock on the door.

“Go away,” Clint mumbled. “Tasha?”

“It’s your apartment,” she reminded him, removing the cushion he was trying to hide under. “You do it. Besides, they don’t know me.”

“You’ve been staying here since you joined SHIELD.”

“Only unofficially. They gave me an apartment downtown after a year, remember?” She poked him in the ribs as the knock sounded again. “Go.”

Muttering, he hauled himself off the couch to remind Mrs Bishop from 3C that the plumber would be there on Monday. He was so prepared for blue-rinsed hair, pointed questions, and the inquisitive stare, it was a bit of a shock to crack the door open and see Coulson outside.

“May I come in?” their handler asked politely, somehow looking at ease despite the incongruous setting. “I think you might have missed some of the details when you dozed off back there.”

“Sure,” Clint answered automatically, stepping back to let him in. “It's Coulson,” he told Tasha, who shrugged one - oh no - naked shoulder.

Coulson’s brows had raised at Clint’s announcement, but they nearly shot off his face when he stepped inside and saw Natasha. She lounged on the couch, completely naked but for the arrow pendant around her neck.

Clint tried for casual. “You can update Tasha too, while you’re at it.” His voice trailed off when he saw the thunderous look on Coulson’s face. “I know it’s against regs, but-”

“Agent Romanoff, we need to talk. Alone, if you would, Barton.”

He considered arguing, but the disappointment in Coulson’s face hit like a punch to the gut and he retreated to the bedroom, returning only to toss Tasha a robe. In the bedroom, he activated the security system to give him a visual feed from the lounge, the audio linked directly to his hearing aid.

Coulson cut straight to the chase. “Agent Romanoff, do you know the term ‘sexual harassment’?”

Clint nearly choked, but “Why are you asking me this?” Tasha asked, raising one delicate brow.

“Has Agent Barton been acting inappropriately?”

A corner of Tasha’s mouth twitched. “Define inappropriate.”

“Demands of a sexual or explicit nature.”

“Yes. All the time.”

In the other room, Clint sighed.

“He’s my partner,” Tasha continued simply.

It was Coulson’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know how it was in Russia, but you don’t have to - What I’m saying is, here in America, your body is your own.”

“I know.” Tasha stretched, letting the robe slip off one shoulder. Coulson averted his gaze. “Why else would I be here?”

“I want you to understand you have options. Even if you don’t make a formal complaint, you won’t have to work with Barton again.”

For the first time, Tasha’s languid pose slipped. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m your handler, I can get him reassigned.”

“Is that a threat?”

Coulson blinked. “What? No!”

Tasha looked straight at the camera. “Come here,” she signed, fingers sharp and definitive. When Clint did so, she left the couch to stand beside him, one slim hand on his arm. “Let me make something clear, Agent Coulson. I’m here because I want to be. If you insist on separating the best team SHIELD has, this idiot will be dead within the year.”

“Gee, thanks Tasha,” Clint muttered. “Not like I lasted 27 years without you.”

“You’ve gotten used to someone watching your back,” she reminded him. “Remember Budapest?”

“We survived, didn’t we?”

“Exactly.”

Coulson watched their interplay, his face maddeningly neutral. “Even so, this is against fraternisation regulations.”

“You going to tell the brass?”

He shrugged. “If I did, they’d have to do something about it, and I owe you an apology, Barton. Would be a shame to get you killed because I tattled instead.”

Tasha relaxed, but Clint stared Coulson down until he folded. “Alright, I’m sorry. I misjudged the situation.” He turned to Tasha. “But why were you naked?”

“He’s too cheap to fix the aircon,” she told him, straight-faced. “You said you had details about the briefing?”

“I - yes.” Coulson removed some papers from his briefcase and laid them on the coffee table. “Standard disclaimed about confidentiality and security, I’ll leave you to read these in your own time, have fun!” With that, he made a remarkably speedy exit.

“... did he just tell us to have fun?” Clint asked, staring.

Tasha’s arms came up to twine around his neck. Somehow, the robe had ended up on the floor. “It’s good advice.”

Clint grinned, wrapping one arm around her waist. “Couldn’t agree more.”


	25. Can we keep him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 22 - Victor Creed/ Darcy Lewis. If it could be a soulmate fic, where they meet for the first time during a mission where they’re in opposite teams, for skyfoxfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/175160196165/happy-birthday-skyfoxfire) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825319/chapters/34812368)

“It’s just a fact-finding mission, Darcy. We’ll be with you every step of the way, Darcy. You’ll be perfectly safe.” Darcy jiggled the door handle again. “Why do I let myself get suckered into these things?”

It had sounded simple enough when they asked her. Dress up, attend a fancy party, get lost, and drop tiny listening devices anywhere she possibly could. She’d had her doubts, but they’d been quietened by Tony’s silver tongue and Steve’s endless reassurances. More fool her, because the creep of the week was being backed by the Brotherhood of Mutants.

Magneto had found the bugs, someone had pointed her out as the socialite last seen in the area, and Darcy had run. She was now somewhere inside the old European castle the creep was using as a base and hopelessly lost for real.

Darcy shoved at the door and was rewarded with a faint  _click_  and the handle turning easily. She stepped through and took a moment to reassess. Her earpiece had fallen silent several twists and turns ago, which couldn’t be a good sign. The beautiful shoes Nat had forced on her had been abandoned a while ago and her feet were stinging. She still had her clutch, but all it held was a phone without signal and a tube of lipstick. She missed her taser desperately, but Clint was right - it would’ve been confiscated at the door.

Muttering imprecations under her breath, she ventured deeper into the castle. 

* * *

“She must’ve been one of the X-Men,” Toad insisted. “We have to get out of here!”

Victor didn’t bother to restrain his eye roll but stayed silent.

“If she was a mutant, why did she run?” Mystique pointed out. “I think she’s human.”

“Charles would never put a human in harm’s way,” Magneto insisted. “And the complexity of these devices -” he gestured to the flattened remains of several bugs “- suggest she’s with Stark.”

“Tony Stark?” their patron - Victor didn’t bother to remember this one’s name - gasped. “We have to get out of here!”

“We need to find the girl. The Avengers are notoriously soft-hearted - they won’t dare touch us if one of their own is at risk.” Magneto flicked his gaze to Victor. “Sabretooth, find her. Toad, make sure our host doesn’t leave. Mystique, you’re with me.”

Victor grinned. “And here I was thinking this party would be boring.” He grabbed one of their host’s security staff, enjoyed the fear in the other man’s eyes. “Show me which way she went.” 

* * *

It was light up ahead.

Darcy switched off her phone torch and waited for her eyes to adjust. The darkness in front of her was not as thick as the darkness behind her. A few steps and two corners later, and she found herself in what looked like an old cellar. Giant empty barrels lined the walls and stood in rows, dust motes swirling in the light from what she assumed was the exit.

Her earpiece crackled to life. “Darcy? Are you there? Your signal’s come back online.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, fingering the pendant that held her microphone. “Don’t know where 'here' is but you lot better have a plan for getting me out.”

“One of the bugs made its way to the server room and we have all the evidence we need. We’re coming in. If you can’t get to the main courtyard to meet us, just sit tight.”

“Okay.” Darcy perched herself on one of the smaller barrels and waited. A scuff, a footstep, caught her ear. “I think someone’s coming,” she whispered, shoving herself off the barrel and ducking behind it. Spying a loose plank nearby, she curled one hand around it. 

* * *

It was dusty in here. Victor  _hated_  dust. It tickled his nose and deadened his sense of smell. He glanced around, taking in the cellar and the undisturbed dust on the stairs to the other exit. There had been no offshoots from the tunnel for some time; his prey was in this room. He stilled, half-closed his eyes and listened for her breathing.

Confident of her location, he crossed the room in easy strides and leaned over the barrel. “ _Are these yours?_ ” he asked silkily, holding up the strappy stilettos he’d found further back.

He’d been prepared for terror, for frozen paralysis. He wasn’t prepared for the socialite to swing a plank into his face like a baseball bat and take off running, mostly dodging a swipe that caught her necklace. He certainly wasn’t prepared to see her stumble to a halt, clutching at her shoulder, and twist to face him

“ _Did I just break my soulmate’s nose?_ ” she demanded.

Victor froze, his own shoulder rippling with sudden pain that vanished as suddenly as it had begun. He prodded at his nose. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“But the soulmate thing? Did I just imagine that, or-”

Victor took a step towards her and she took a matching one away. “I want to see.”

He pushed his jacket, then his shirt, off his shoulder, revealing looping script. His soulmate came closer, raised one hand to trace the words. “May I?”

At his nod, she ran a delicate finger along his mark before pushing the strap off her own shoulder, exposing creamy skin and his own rough scrawl. “I’m Darcy,”

“Victor,” he replied. “You with the Avengers?”

She smiled, a crooked little thing that seemed out of place on her expressive mouth. “Sort of. I think this is going to be a one-off, to be honest.” She tilted her head up at him. “Is that going to be a problem? I’m guessing you’re with Magneto’s Brotherhood.”

Victor shrugged. “Easy come, easy go. Even Magneto won’t argue with soulmates if I keep my head down. Your lot going to have a problem with me?”

Darcy scowled. There was something adorable about it. “They better not,” she said mulishly, then looked back into the cellar. “Also, yes, those were my shoes. Could I have them back?”

Snorting back a laugh, he fetched the impractical shoes and watched with interest as she fastened them. “Do you know the way out?”

“Nope.” She slipped her arm in his. “But if you can get us to the main courtyard, I’ll get us out of the country.”

“It’s a deal,” he rumbled, “but first -” he lifted her chin with one finger and leaned down to kiss her. 

* * *

Clint shielded his eyes against the setting sun and hoped Darcy was okay. It has been too long since her microphone had fallen silent, but Tony reported that her earpiece was moving, and in their direction.

An old door in a nearby wall fell open with a crash and Darcy stumbled out, closely followed by Sabretooth. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick was smudged, and half her dress was coming off. Clint nocked an arrow and pointed it at the other man, who halted.

Darcy stopped too, and only then did Clint notice they were holding hands - and the words on Darcy’s shoulder. “He followed me home,” she informed him cheerfully. “Can we keep him?”


	26. Fireflies (three ways)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 21 - Shieldshock, something fluffy and/or smutty. If there’s a way to incorporate the prompt “fireflies” I would really appreciate it, for that-wimpy-cowboy-doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/176147681360/happy-birthday-that-wimpy-cowboy-doll) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130913/chapters/35662566)

Steve had always had trouble sleeping. When he was younger, it had been the asthma, then the war. Now, he figured he’d spent long enough asleep. Most nights were spent in the gym or running around the Avengers Complex in upstate New York, hoping to exhaust himself into resting.

This time, after his workout, Steve went to rehydrate and found the small fridge of sports drinks empty of his favourite flavour. It was restocked every morning; from a quick glance at the time, he had several hours to go before that. Mentally shrugging, he took the stairs to the common area.

Somewhat surprisingly, the room wasn’t dark and deserted when he got there. The couches were bathed in a soft blue light from the wall-sized screen Tony had installed. Frowning, he tried to remember if there had been a movie night he’d missed, but the room was empty. On closer inspection, he spotted someone underneath about four blankets, their face in shadow. Figuring them to be asleep, he went to turn the movie off and was halted by an irritated female voice.

“Touch that remote at your peril, mister.”

He withdrew his hand quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were still watching.”

“Of course I’m still watching.” A hand emerged from under the blanket pile to pat the couch beside her. “Sit down and stop looming.”

“Let me grab a drink first. You want anything?”

The hand indicated a mug in front of them. “Nah, I’m good.”

He took two bottles of sports drink from the fridge, draining one immediately, and carried the other to sit on the couch.

“You want a blanket?” she asked, tugging at one of hers.

“Sure.”

She dragged some excess blanket off the floor and flicked it over partway over him. Grabbing the hem, he pulled it the rest of the way and leaned back to regard the screen. “Thanks. What are we watching?”

“The Princess and the Frog - have you seen it before?”

“Should I?”

“Yeah, but I'm not surprised you haven't, it’s totally underrated. It’s in the classic 2D Disney style, but only came out a few years ago so it turns some of the usual tropes on their head.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, it’s the Prince who is the useless one who needs to be rescued. Look at him!”

“Tiana does look like she knows what she’s doing,” he agreed.

“Oh, absolutely. But she’s got some stuff to learn too, and ooh, I love this song!”

They watched in companionable silence, Steve tapping his fingers to the infectious rhythm of the music. “Do you normally watch movies at this time?” Steve asked as the credits rolled.

“I’ve always been a night owl, but working with Jane has done wonders for divorcing me from any semblance of a normal sleep schedule. Now I sleep when I can and watch movies when I can’t.”

_Jane._  The only Jane he could think of was Dr Foster, which would make his movie companion - “it’s Miss Lewis, isn’t it?”

“You sound like my old teachers - most people call me Darcy - but yeah, and you’re Captain America.”

Steve groaned. “I suppose I deserve that. How about I call you Darcy, and you call me Steve?”

A snort of laughter from her direction. “Okay, you've got a deal, but it does seem almost, like, sacrilegious. I studied you in school, you know.” She nodded towards the TV. “You’re like a real life Sleeping Beauty.”

“Wrong fairy tale, but I get the gist.”

Though he couldn’t see her clearly, he would swear her eyes narrowed. “You have seen Sleeping Beauty, right?” Her hand retreated inside the blanket to retrieve a phone, the light from the screen illuminating her face for the first time. “Oh, it only came out in 1959.”

“Would you recommend it?”

“It's not a bad movie, but the music isn't as good at this.” The last part of her sentence was overcome by a massive yawn.

“How about you show me sometime?” he suggested, fighting the urge to yawn himself.

The phone screen flickered on again as she pulled up her calendar. “Hmmm. Same time tomorrow?”

Steve smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

They fell into a routine over the next few months, though it was an informal sort of thing when they were both available. Sometimes he'd be out of the country on an assignment, sometimes she'd be at a conference with Jane, but more often than not, they'd spend a few hours together watching a movie.

After that first night, they stopped planning them in advance. If either one of them was late, the other only hung around for a while and Steve found himself cutting his late night training short to make sure he would catch her. The conversations after the movies began to grow longer and longer until one or both of them would fall asleep on the couch.

Of course, one of those international sporting events started, and Rhodey monopolised the big screen to watch games at odd times of the day. Steve entered the common room one night to find a bemused Darcy hovering by the door.

“Hey Darce, what’s up?”

“Oh, you’re here! I was gonna put the first Star Wars on but -” she gestured helplessly at the oblivious Rhodey. “Shall we go and use one of the screens in the conference rooms?”

“How about something different?” Steve suggested. “It’s pretty warm outside, you want go for a walk? There’s some place I’ve been meaning to show you.”

Darcy shrugged. “Sure, let me grab a hoodie.”

Together, they left the facility, quickly leaving the manicured lawns behind. Her shoulder brushed his as she pointed out astrological phenomena Jane had studied. With his better night vision, Steve had to keep steadying Darcy as she stumbled in the dark. Of course, her focus on the night sky didn’t help her balance one bit.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a while.

“Not much further,” he promised. “I think. It should be just about here. Look around.”

He could tell the moment her eyes adjusted because she let out a soft gasp. “Oh look, fireflies!” Darcy spun, eyes wide. “They’re everywhere! How did you find them?”

“Late night running, and I come here to draw sometimes, during the day. Somewhere to be alone and think.”

She faced him, frowning. “And you brought me here? Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful and I love it, but this is your place. Why would you share that with me?”

“If I told you that you were my Evangeline, would that make it any better?”

Darcy's eyes went wide, then welled with tears. “Of course it would! That changes everything.” With a decisive nod, she pulled him forward to kiss him.


	27. Two shades dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 21 - Steve Rogers paired with one marvel female character (surprise me). With the Prompt "I should have known it would be you". If possible a soulmate fic, for celinette9221

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [Tumblr](https://marvelousbirthdays.tumblr.com/post/177248851310/happy-birthday-celinette9221) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569715/chapters/36650082)

Steve’s soulmark grew darker the day he finally moved into the Tower.

He had rolled his sleeves up to help with the heavy lifting and was rolling them down now the job was done.

“What’s up, Cap?” Sam asked as Steve broke off in mid-sentence to stare at his arm.

“Does that look darker to you?” Steve demanded in response, twisting his forearm so it was visible to the other man.

Sam squinted. “... maybe? Listen, man, it’s your mark. If you think it’s darker, then congrats. You’re one step closer to meeting them.”

Steve shrugged and finished rolling down his sleeves. “That doesn’t mean much. It got a shade darker when I stepped out of Erskine’s machine and that was some 70 years ago now.”

“That’s two shades dark for you? I don’t think mine was ever that pale.”

“I’m Irish,” Steve protested. “I am naturally fair.”

“You say fair, I say pasty, white boy. Now, are you going to start unpacking those boxes or are we going to crack open those beers Tony left in your fridge as a welcome present?”

The two men surveyed the mountains of boxes dotting the lounge. “Beer,” they agreed simultaneously.

* * *

“Has Jo asked you out yet?”

Steve tried very hard not to jump at the sudden question. “She did,” he answered, after a pause. “I turned her down.”

Natasha pouted, dropping gracefully into the seat beside him. “Why not? I think she’d be a good fit.”

“Like a pair of trousers?”

“You know what I mean. She likes history.”

“I might have lived through it. Doesn't mean I like it.”

“Alright, Rogers. What do you like, then?”

“Um,” Steve responded eloquently. “You realise that’s the first time you’ve asked me that question?”

“Asking questions isn’t my style.”

“And trying to set me up on dates with every woman in the Tower  _is_?”

“Answer the question, Rogers.”

He thought about it, holding up a hand to silence Nat when it looked like she might press. “Someone interested,” he answered finally. “Stop giving me that look, Romanoff. I don’t mean interested in me, though that would help. I’m talking about someone who is interested in something bigger than herself, who is passionate about knowledge and learning.”

“So, a scholar?”

“Maybe,” Steve hedged. “I haven’t really thought about it, okay? Maybe someone who cares about helping others or making the world a better place.”

“A scholar  _and_ a philanthropist.”

“Too hard for you?”

Natasha looked unimpressed as she stood up. “I’ll find her, don’t worry.”

“Not if I find her first.”

“Yes, because you are doing  _so_ well at that right now.”

“I’ll find you,” Steve murmured, looking down at his arm. Under his sleeve, his mark grew darker. 

* * *

Steve was sketching in his rooms when Jarvis chimed, almost apologetically. “Captain Rogers, Ms Potts is on the line, if you are available to answer her. It is a matter of some urgency.”

He frowned, putting his pencil down. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Pepper Potts said, sounding unusually flustered. “Steve, can you go and check on Tony? He isn’t answering my calls. According to Jarvis, he’s working on an off-network computer and he’s brought out the blowtorch.”

“Is that a bad thing? I thought he was good at that sort of stuff.”

“Give Tony a box of scraps and a deadline, and he can build you anything with ten seconds to spare. Give him 17 cups of coffee and a blowtorch, and the insurance companies stop taking our calls. You weren’t in the country in April, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t. What happened?”

“I’ll get Jarvis to send you the footage when I’m back from Geneva, but please can you drag Tony out of his lab. Jarvis can lock it down once he leaves.”

“Okay, “ he agreed. “Jarvis, you’re going to have to tell me the way. I ain’t been down to the labs yet.”

“Certainly,” Jarvis said. “I am holding the elevator for you now.”

Steve followed Jarvis’s directions to the lab floors, down twisty-windy corridors and through three sets of double doors, where he found Tony drooping over some contraption, lit blowtorch in hand.

“Tony,” he said, and the other man jumped.

“Give a man some warning, Capsicle, I almost singed off my eyebrows!”

“Pepper sent me,” Steve explained.

Tony scowled. “I don’t know why she’s worrying so much, it’s only been a few hours. Jarvis, how long have I been in here?”

“Twenty-eight hours, sir,” Jarvis said primly.

“Fine. But we need to find you a hobby, Cap, so you stop interrupting mine. How’s Romanoff doing on the matchmaking front?”

“Not interested,” Steve told him, tapping his arm. “I’ve decided to wait.” He peered at his words. “You know, I think it’s gotten darker.”

He was interrupted in his perusal but Tony’s collapse onto the floor into a snoring heap. With a sigh, Steve unplugged the blowtorch and hoisted Tony into a fireman’s carry. “Jarvis, can you guide me out again?” 

* * *

“Hey Cap, suit up. We’ve got a situation in South Korea.”

“Trouble at the border?”

“Nah, protesters.”

“They’re requesting the Avengers to deal with  _protesters_?”

“These protesters have already set off a bomb downtown, and have threatened to set off dozens more around a major metropolitan area so yeah, they are. Our contact says hospitals are swamped.”

Steve was too busy pulling on his suit to notice the words running up his arm were three shades darker than they had been that morning. “I’ll be at the quinjet in five. Barton flying?”

“I’m at the jet,” Clint confirmed over the comms. “I’ve encountered these guys before, with SHIELD. They really like their explosives.”

“Who’s our contact on the ground?” Steve asked, snapping his shield into place.

“Helen Cho,” Tony answered him. “She runs a research facility in Seoul, on the cutting edge of medical technology. I’ve been trying to get her over to the States for  _years_  but she won’t budge.”

“Then we’d better get to her.”

They made good time across the Pacific, Natasha liaising with local law enforcement in fluent Korean. “They’ve located most of the bombs, but are stretched too thin,” she reported. Her mouth thinned to a line. “They say they think the protesters have one beneath the general hospital but it’s too well protected for them to get to it.”

“That’s where we’re going,” Steve decided.

Clint set them down beside the hospital, Natasha on the comms as they debarked. “Apparently they’re holed up somewhere in the building next door and are picking off anyone who gets close. If it’s as strong as the one that went off downtown, it’ll take a chunk out of both buildings. They are trying to evacuate, but it’s slow going.”

“I’ll draw their fire from this side,” Steve suggested. “Stark, you do the same. Sam, you’re with me. Barton, stay high and pick off anyone who pokes their head out. Romanoff - “

“I’ll coordinate from out here. Honestly, this would be a lot easier if you all spoke Korean.”

That was the plan, at least. They all tried to stick with it, but Tony in his suit drew enough attention that Steve and Sam were able to get inside, where it was soon a melee. Steve dodged and punched until there was only one man left, slowly backing away, his hand dipping into his jacket.

“What’s he doing?” Sam demanded. “What’s in his pocket?”

Steve brought his shield up, but it was no gun - only a small black remote that the man pointed over his shoulder, at a contraption with far too many wires.

“Get down!” he yelled as the man pushed the button. Sam scrambled backwards but Steve ran forwards, flipping his shield to contain the blast.

It worked. Partially.

The shield absorbed most of the blast, Tony would later tell him. The hospital avoided serious structural damage; the building next door would likely have to be torn down but was still standing. Unfortunately, 'most' was not enough to prevent Steve from being thrown across the room, the next room, and against the jagged remains of a concrete column.

It was Sam who found him in the rubble, Tony who dragged him clear, and Jarvis who ran the diagnostic that noted his vitals dropping fast.

“Concussion, multiple fractures, third-degree burns, internal bleeding, and I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t have metal there,” Tony reported, carrying Steve to his local expert. “He’s fading in and out of consciousness.”

“Get him in the cradle,” Helen said. “And you’ll need to get that out.”

Once Steve was settled in Helen’s contraption, Tony grabbed the metal spar and yanked, then Helen slapped a wad of gauze over the wound. Steve’s eyes flew open and settled on Helen’s face. “ _That really hurt_ ,” he said conversationally. “ _First time visiting Seoul and this is what I get for it?_ ”

Helen’s eyes widened, glancing down to her own arm before returning to Steve’s face with a degree of exasperation. “ _I should have known it would be you_.”

Steve’s eyes, drifting shut, flew open again. Through the ragged remains of his tac suit, his soulmark deepened to black and he opened his mouth to speak. Helen halted him with a finger against his lips. “Don’t try to talk. You’re the most injured subject to make it to my lab. Just try not to die in the next twenty minutes.”

“I can do that,” Steve mumbled as she stepped back to close the cradle. “And Nat was right. I really should learn Korean.”


End file.
